When the Ground Remembers

The ground does not forget—it merely waits. Beneath the archipelago’s calm surfaces lie stories of tension and release, of plates colliding beneath the weight of centuries. In the past months, the Philippines has once again felt the tremors of its geography’s unease, as if the earth itself was whispering: I am still awake.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗨𝗻𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗲𝘁 𝗘𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗵

In late September 2025, a magnitude 6.9 earthquake struck off the coast of northern Cebu, with its epicenter about 19 kilometers northeast of Bogo City. The quake left at least 72 dead, hundreds injured, and more than 370,000 residents displaced as roads split and homes crumbled.

Barely two weeks later, twin earthquakes measuring 7.4 and 6.8 shook Davao Oriental, triggering tsunami warnings and landslides that buried coastal homes. At least seven people were killed, and aftershocks rippled across Mindanao for days. These back-to-back disasters echoed the same message that has haunted the Philippines for generations—the ground is never truly still.

According to the Philippine Institute of Volcanology and Seismology (PHIVOLCS), an average of 20 earthquakes occur daily within or near the country, though most go unfelt. Yet for a nation perched on the Pacific Ring of Fire, it only takes one to remind millions how fragile life can be.

𝗕𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 𝗢𝘂𝗿 𝗙𝗲𝗲𝘁

Stretching beneath Luzon is the 100-kilometer West Valley Fault, cutting through Quezon City, Marikina, Pasig, Taguig, Muntinlupa, and Laguna. Experts warn it is “ripe for movement,” capable of producing a magnitude 7.2 earthquake—the dreaded Big One. Should it rupture, PHIVOLCS estimates that around 34,000 people could die and 170,000 structures could collapse, particularly in Metro Manila’s most densely populated zones.

But it is only one of many. The 1,200-kilometer Philippine Fault Zone runs through the country, while trenches such as the Philippine and Cotabato lie offshore—massive subduction zones where tectonic plates meet and tension builds until the earth can no longer contain it.

In 2022, the magnitude 7.0 Abra earthquake cracked roads and heritage churches across northern Luzon. One year later, a 6.2 magnitude quake off Catanduanes and Samar triggered tsunami warnings that rippled across the Visayas. Each tremor carves reminders into the land: every lull is only an intermission.

𝗛𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗪𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝗥𝘂𝗶𝗻𝘀

The Philippines’ seismic past reads like a chronicle of destruction and endurance. The 1645 Luzon earthquake leveled Manila, killing thousands and earning the name Lindol ng San Andres. Centuries later, the 1990 Luzon quake, at magnitude 7.8, turned Baguio into rubble and claimed over 1,600 lives.

In the Visayas, the 2013 Bohol earthquake toppled heritage churches, while later quakes in Surigao (2017), Cotabato (2019), and Davao del Sur (2023) revealed the same fragility beneath our foundations.What remains after every disaster is the same sight, Filipinos standing amid ruins, rebuilding with hands that have learned both loss and persistence. But resilience, though admirable, cannot stand alone. Without readiness, it risks turning into a cycle—a ritual of rebuilding without learning.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗢𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗙𝗮𝘂𝗹𝘁𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗗𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗲

Disaster resilience begins long before the ground starts to shake. The Office of Civil Defense (OCD) and PHIVOLCS continually remind Filipinos to keep a “go bag” ready—packed with essentials such as water, food, medicine, flashlights, radios, extra clothing, and important documents. According to the National Center for Disaster Preparedness (NCDP), having one can spell the difference between life and death. Go bags provide the means for self-sufficiency for up to 72 hours after a disaster, a critical window when survival rates hover around 90% in the first 24 hours and drop to 20–30% within the next two days. As the ground remembers and skies remain unpredictable, readiness is not just precaution—it’s survival.

Yet, few Filipino households are ready. A 2024 survey by the Harvard Humanitarian Initiative found that only around 27% of households in the Philippines reported having a go bag or emergency kit at home. Similarly, a report by the Asian Development Bank (ADB) revealed that over 80% of Filipino families still lack disaster kits or evacuation bags—showing a gap between awareness and action.

Preparedness does more than offer peace of mind; it saves lives. The United Nations Office for Disaster Risk Reduction (UNDRR) reports that nations with strong early warning systems and community preparedness programs record far lower disaster mortality rates. In Metro Manila, the annual ShakeDrill simulates “The Big One,” training residents to duck, cover, and hold while testing evacuation routes and response capacity. Building codes now mandate earthquake-resistant designs for schools, hospitals, and public structures. However, in many rural and low-income communities, unsafe buildings endure, and preparedness remains a privilege more than a norm.

True resilience is built from the ground up; not just through reconstruction after disaster, but through anticipation before it. Each household that prepares, each barangay that drills, and each structure reinforced against collapse adds another layer of defense. Because when the earth remembers, the only faultless response is readiness.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗚𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗥𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿𝘀, 𝗦𝗼 𝗠𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗪𝗲

For an archipelago born of fire, trembling is both a curse and an inheritance. The Philippines will always quake, not out of malice but memory. Each tremor, each fallen wall, each quiet aftershock reminds us that the land beneath us is alive.

The question now is whether we will remember as the earth does. To remember is not merely to mourn but to act—to strengthen homes, to educate communities, to demand accountability for unsafe structures, and to ready ourselves before the next faultline speaks.

Because when the ground remembers, it does not warn twice.