BAHA NA NAMAN: What makes flooding a political problem?

In many areas in the Philippines, flooding has become so common that people often respond to it with fatigued indifference rather than fear. Families have grown accustomed to raising their furniture and stocking food and candles, not in a panic, but simply out of habit.  What could have been addressed as a public crisis has gradually settled into daily life. This quiet normalization reflects more than just adaptation; it signals how years of uncoordinated responses and policy inaction have shaped not only people’s risks but also their expectations of what counts as normal.

Looking closer, it becomes clear that flooding is not solely a result of adverse conditions like rising sea levels, intense monsoon cycles, and the country’s exposure to typhoons. It draws attention to bigger issues like how cities are constructed, how resources are distributed, and whose needs are prioritized more. More than just the rising floodwaters, this disaster exposes how power is exercised, decisions are made, and resources are usually not distributed fairly to the public. Natural occurrences may have triggered the floodwater’s rise, but the scale of the damage reflects choices made and unmade by those in charge.

The Philippines’ geography places it at the center of a climate-vulnerable region. With more than 7,000 islands, it faces serious challenges such as flooding due to its constantly rising sea levels. A study that examined satellite data from 1993 to 2015 revealed that the sea in the Philippine Sea was rising roughly 5 to 7 millimeters yearly, which was faster than the global average of 2.8 to 3.6 millimeters. 

Furthermore, being situated in the Pacific typhoon belt and the intersection where tropical currents meet heightens the risks, as the country experiences almost 20 tropical storms annually. However, geography alone does not determine the extent of the damage. What turns natural risks into recurring disasters is the failure to invest in resilient, forward-looking governance – especially by the agencies such as the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH), Department of Environment and Natural Resources, Department of Interior and Local Government, the Metropolitan Manila Development Authority (MMDA), and the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Council. These departments hold the mandate to plan, implement, and coordinate long-term risk reduction — yet too often fall short due to fragmented priorities and limited public accountability.

Since many areas in the countries are also built on lands that are either low-lying or have been reclaimed from the sea, they inevitably acquire a lot of water when it rains. These problems are only worsened by the rising sea levels and heavier rains brought on by climate change. Particularly, coastal regions in the east of Samar and Leyte, parts of southwester Central and Western Visayas, eastern Mindanao, and southern Zamboanga experience sea levels at a rate of approximately 4.5 to 5 millimeters per year. 

The Philippine Atmospheric, Geophysical and Astronomical Services Administration has also tracked a 0.648°C rise in the country’s average temperature between 1951 and 2010, contributing to heavier rainfall and more intense weather events. These figures reflect more than environmental change — they are warnings. Geography may set the stage, but it is poor planning and weak governance that allow floods to become recurring emergencies. 

Still, flooding should not always be blamed on the country’s vulnerability to it. Countries that face this similar risk, including Vietnam, Japan, and the Netherlands, have all established long-term, organized, and effective mitigation measures and projects to control flooding and its associated risks. This just highlights how the persistent flooding issue in the Philippines involves how the government prepares for it or not.

From 2016 to 2023, the Philippine government invested more than 1 trillion pesos in flood control efforts. In 2025, they intend to add 257 billion pesos. Yet, despite all of that money, major, occasionally catastrophic floods continue to plague areas like Manila, Pampanga, and Bicol. Now the question is, where is all that money really going, and why does the flooding seem to be getting worse rather than better?

In 2023, the Commission on Audit (COA) flagged the DPWH for failing to implement over 2,000 locally funded projects totaling over 60 billion pesos. The COA rated the DPWH for not professionally addressing problems that other government project implementers and private-sector engineers are able to overcome, even though the agency has "long years of exposure and experience" in project implementation.

Many of these projects began with promising intentions, but in practice, they often fell short. Without a unified national flood control framework, resources were divided among hundreds of disconnected efforts. In Metro Manila, infrastructure like the Manggahan Floodway and systems built along the West Valley Fault illustrate what a comprehensive approach can look like — yet such models are rarely extended to other flood-prone regions. This lack of consistency means that communities outside the capital are left to depend on piecemeal interventions, often launched without thorough environmental assessments, long-term planning, or meaningful input from the people most affected.

In fact, distributing budgets for different small flood control projects to different regions so they can manage floods in their areas independently just leads to more issues. If one town constructs a drainage system, for instance, it may just simply transfer the excess floodwaters to the next town, which isn't prepared for. Passing the blame in this way merely shifts the issue rather than solving it. Moreover, a lack of clear plan results in a great deal of wasted effort, inefficient use of funds, and occasionally the use of outdated or inappropriate technology that isn't really effective for the unique problems of each region.

Now, it's quite apparent that the lack of political will to advocate for a cohesive, community-focused, science-based strategy impacts the risks for flooding. Leaders and governments frequently choose projects that are expensive, can be completed quickly, or will appear favorable during a political cycle. This implies that the difficult but more productive work, such as long-term planning and interdisciplinary collaboration, is neglected. The billions of pesos being spent will continue to produce some mediocre and inconsistent results as long as things remain this way. In the meantime, the floodwaters will continue to rise in the same locations, or worse, in new locations.

In Dagupan City, a well-known flood-prone area, a local solution of elevating roads has been introduced. But netizens soon noticed an unexpected consequence — water that had previously collected on the elevated roads was now being diverted into nearby residences and commercial establishments, many of which lacked the funds to improve their own properties. Households became more vulnerable and neglected as the city's infrastructure changed to lessen flooding.

As one resident expressed online, “Araw-araw ko nasasaksihan hirap at lungkot sa mga mata ng mga Dagupeños na naapektuhan ang kanilang business small or big man yan ay napakalaking pain sakanila… Sana bago natin isipin na ang road elevation ay nakakabuti para sa lahat, sana inisip muna yung kapakanan, establisyemento, mga tao, at magiging lagay ng Dagupan.” This highlights that development, when done without inclusive planning and foresight, can displace the burden of the people rather than ease it. When public infrastructure improves only for some, it quickly asks others to absorb the cost.

This problem is prevalent throughout the country. Typically, flood mitigation efforts tend to prioritize areas with high traffic or commercial importance, leaving low-income neighborhoods vulnerable and underserved. The distribution of benefits from public investments often reflects broader societal divisions related to socioeconomic status, geographical location, and political influence.

In Central Mindanao, Cotabato Governor Emmylou Talino-Mendoza issued a public plea for national support after persistent flooding displaced thousands across Kabacan, Pikit, and nearby towns. Entire barangays were submerged. Portions of the Cotabato-Davao Highway became impassable. Years of flooding have silted up riverways, and local governments simply don’t have the capacity to manage it alone. 

“There must be a scientific approach in addressing this problem. And we cannot do this alone, we need the help of the national government,” she said. Despite the existence of a Climate-Responsive Integrated Master Plan for the Mindanao River Basin, implementation remains patchy. The rivers keep swelling, the marshlands struggle to absorb runoff, and people continue to be displaced. What’s missing isn’t data or diagnosis — it’s coordinated, sustained action.

Whether it’s Dagupan in Luzon or Cotabato in Mindanao, the pattern is familiar: flood control projects are launched without regional coordination, community consultation, or environmental foresight. In many cases, interventions are chosen for their visibility, not their viability. Elevating a road looks like an action. But without complementary drainage systems, watershed rehabilitation, and clear protocols between local and national agencies, it becomes a short-term fix with long-term consequences. When flood control is treated as a checklist item rather than a collective responsibility, the water finds another place to drown. Progress that doesn’t protect everyone isn’t real progress but just a redistribution of risk.

This situation is also experienced in Metro Manila, which was formerly made up of swamps, esteros, and natural waterways that assisted in absorbing excess water. Over time, these natural buffers have changed and have been systematically replaced — paved over, filled in, or diverted in the name of land reclamation and rapid urban expansion. The route for floodwaters to exit into Manila Bay has become more constrained due to developments such as those along Roxas Boulevard. This is not just poor planning — it reflects an urban design philosophy where concrete is favored over climate resilience, and development is pursued without regard for the long-term consequences on public safety.

“Wala po kami naisalba, kahit isa. Pati po ‘yung hanap-buhay namin na sari-sari store,” a resident from Marikina City said, recalling how the flood rose faster than they could react. “Inuna po namin ‘yung mga bata. Maghapon po kami basa kagabi. Tapos wala rin po kaming makain.”

When these floods occur, relief activities usually take the center stage — food packs are distributed, evacuation centers are opened, and several rescue teams are sent out. Even though these steps are helpful, they usually become the center of disaster response and planning rather than devoting time and funds to prevention and preparation. Unfortunately, despite its crucial role, prevention measures remain bureaucratically sidelined. and are not given focus.

Those projects that are immediately "seen" and doable during their terms, such as groundbreaking ceremonies or short-term initiatives, are usually what is given priority by politicians and officers. On the other hand, more effective and efficient long-term investments, such as updating comprehensive flood control plans, enforcing zoning laws, and restoring watersheds, were not even considered despite lasting longer than just one administration or one flooding situation.

Furthermore, the effectiveness and transparency of ongoing and past flood control projects are frequently questioned. Projects are occasionally awarded to contractors with political ties. In its 2018 audit, COA flagged the MMDA for failing to complete 117 out of 170 planned flood control projects, roughly 69%, despite an allocated budget of nearly 879 million pesos. What made matters worse was that many of these projects had no clear procurement timelines, and some had already been awarded to contractors even before groundwork began. Projects’ bidding processes like this aren’t closely monitored, which may cause problems. Because of this, some buildings are constructed badly or not at all. Even completed projects don't always address the community's actual needs.

The people's skepticism is justified. Even President Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. freely acknowledged that the government felt powerless during Typhoon Trami, saying that they could only "wait and hope" that the damage wouldn't be too severe. His statement is sincere, but it also begs the question of how well-prepared the systems in the government are and whether some of that lack of readiness could have been prevented.

One of the biggest barriers to real, lasting solutions to flooding in the Philippines isn’t the weather, as mentioned, is the politics. Instead of long-term investments rooted in science and sustainability, many government projects are shaped by the rhythms of election cycles. Leaders often choose what can be finished, photographed, and praised within their term, even if it means cutting corners or ignoring long-term impact.

This short-sightedness was laid bare during a Senate hearing in 2024 when DPWH Secretary Manuel Bonoan admitted that the 5,500 flood control projects cited by the president in his State of the Nation Address were mostly stand-alone interventions, not part of any unified master plan. These projects may have provided immediate relief, but they were not designed with coordination or continuity in mind. In other words: short-term fixes for long-term risks.

It turns out that there is actually a national flood control blueprint, a 351 billion peso master plan for Metro Manila and nearby provinces, approved more than a decade ago. But over 10 years later, that plan is only about 30% accomplished. Part of the delay, Bonoan revealed, came from Congress drastically cutting the proposed 2024 budget for foreign-assisted projects, which would have funded key flood mitigation systems. Lawmakers, instead, funneled funds into pet projects with quicker political payoffs.

This is not just a budget issue — it's a governance problem. Even when data, designs, and funding are available, progress remains slow because political incentives often reward visibility, not viability. Flashy structures rise while necessary systems, like drainage upgrades or desilting operations, remain underfunded or unfinished.

The bigger cost of flooding is borne by the public. Every rainy season like this, the cycle repeats: streets are submerged, homes are lost, and officials scramble for temporary fixes. But until the government prioritizes what is politically profitable rather than what’s publicly needed, these floods won’t just keep coming — they’ll keep getting worse. Flood control should not be a PR strategy. It should be a public duty backed by long-term commitment, collaborative planning, and courageous leadership.

After disasters like this, stories about neighbors sharing food, kids laughing in the water, and volunteers helping out with supplies are often featured and heard.  These narratives reflect the deep sense of community that many Filipinos rely on during times of crisis. However, they should not overshadow a deeper truth. People should not be expected to show resilience in situations that could have been avoided through better planning. 

While resilience is admirable, constantly celebrating it can unintentionally excuse the failure of institutions to protect their citizens. Scholars describe this as resilience fatigue or even the weaponization of resilience, where the burden of survival is placed on communities rather than on the systems meant to safeguard them. Filipinos are capable of adapting, but they should not have to keep doing so with limited support and even fewer long-term solutions.

Flooding isn’t just an environmental problem — it’s a matter of how things are managed. It reveals who decides, who is involved, and which concerns are given priority.  Natural hazards may be unavoidable, but their impact is shaped by long-standing patterns of governance, funding priorities, and public accountability. Eventually, those most affected are the same ones repeatedly asked to cope with the consequences — communities expected to withstand what others in power have chosen not to fix.

To effectively address flooding, the Philippines needs more than just funds. It requires plans that are open, transparent, and well-coordinated. Both technical aspects and the impact on society should be considered when building the infrastructure. And its countrymen also need leaders who are not only focused on winning the next election.

Flooding isn’t just water on the streets — it’s a sign that the system needs fixing. Not just with builders and concrete, but with sincerity, a genuine purpose, and consideration for the communities that are impacted first.