18/08/2025
| 𝗔𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝘀—𝗼𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝘀?
In a world where disasters unfold in real time on our screens, compassion can sometimes look more like performance. A repost, a hashtag, a donation link shared-it feels like action, but does it go beyond the trending moment?
The Philippines knows the true meaning of ‘bayanihan’. For generations, neighbors have carried one another through floods, typhoons, and pandemics. This spirit of community unity has never been about recognition; it has always been about survival. Yet today, as social media drives much of our response to crises, we must ask-is our ‘bayanihan’ becoming shallow, reduced to fleeting gestures for visibility rather than sustained care?
There is no denying the power of technology. When Typhoon Carina struck in July 2024, online campaigns powered groups like Angat Buhay, which mobilized more than a thousand volunteers and raised over ₱20 million to aid nearly 65,000 people. During the pandemic, the Bayan Bayanihan initiative likewise provided food packs to hundreds of thousands of families. In such moments, social media becomes a lifeline.
But the danger is real, aid can become more spectacle than substance. Relief drives and fundraisers trend for a week, maybe two-but what happens when the hashtags fade? Too often, what begins as generosity slips into virtue signaling, where the goal is attention rather than long-term care. True compassion does not disappear when the spotlight shifts.
Amid this, the backbone of disaster response remains institutions like the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD). As the lead agency for social protection, DSWD mounts large-scale relief operations whenever calamities strike. After Carina—and again after the stronger Typhoon Co-may (locally known as Emong) in July 2025, which displaced nearly 278,000 people and claimed at least 25 lives—DSWD swiftly opened hotlines, distributed relief packs, and deployed social workers to affected communities. Their work rarely trends, but it continues quietly, long after headlines vanish.
This contrast is clear: social media captures attention in bursts, but government agencies and grassroots volunteers shoulder the harder, longer burden. Filipino ‘bayanihan’ is not just viral generosity. It is neighbors checking on one another, barangay volunteers going door-to-door, and public servants working sleepless nights. Calamities do not wait for hashtags. People in need cannot live on posts—they need real, steady support.
This World Humanitarian Day challenges us to choose. Are we helping because it is fashionable—or because it is right? Filipino compassion is strong, but it must resist the lure of bandwagoning. Humanitarianism is not a performance. It is a way of life, lived daily in quiet acts as much as in grand gestures. It is, above all, the decision to put lives over likes.
The choice is ours. Let this day renew our promise to give with open hearts—whether online or offline, seen or unseen. And let it remind us that in times of crisis, it is not our posts that matter, but the lives we help rebuild.
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Article by Wilbert Joshua Quina
Graphics by Alexis Paul Fonacier
