A Joke No One Found Funny

Report by Angilene Dableo | Cartoon by Mandie Asejo | Layout by Jayane Leslie Feliciano

Public communication is not a joke — especially when lives are on the line.

In a time when nearly two million Filipinos are struggling with the impact of severe flooding, bad weather, and displacement, one would expect the government to speak with urgency, compassion, and clarity. But instead, Filipinos were met with jokes.

On Tuesday, July 22, amidst this national emergency, Filipinos scrolling through the DILG’s social media account were greeted with the words: “Mga abangers, may inaabangan ba kayo? Mamaya na kain muna ko.” Followed by another post: “Sarap ng bogchi ko. Sa kabusugan ay nakaidlip nang sandali. Oh eto na inaabangan niyo!” Such messaging doesn’t lighten the mood—it mocks the situation.

This is not a public service. This is a public spectacle.

In a country battling flooding with more than 12 dead, nine missing, and thousands of families crammed into evacuation centers, the announcement sounded less like a message from a national official and more like a skit from a comedy bar. Only, no one was laughing.

Department of Interior and Local Government (DILG) Secretary Jonvic Remulla, in his post, later apologized, saying, “Pabiro talaga ako. Hindi ko naman minamaliit ang pinaghihirapan nila… A little humor never hurt anyone.” But here lies the problem, public service is not about personality. It’s about responsibility and accountability.

Government officials are not influencers. Their duty is not to gain engagement, but to ensure safety. Their platform should not revolve around clout, but for clarity.

These are not ordinary posts. They were posted on the Official Facebook page of a National Government— one followed by millions who rely on it for information during emergencies. This is not the place for clout or jokes. This is the space where truth, urgency, and empathy must live.

What Remulla sees as harmless humor; many Filipinos saw as indifference. While he cracked jokes about food, others were starving. While he napped, many didn’t sleep, stranded, or mourn the loss of a loved one.

Meanwhile, President Marcos Jr. defended Remulla, saying that “what’s important is he gets the message across.” But is that enough? A message, no matter how factual, loses its value when dressed in tone-deaf humor. During a crisis, public communication requires more than just factual accuracy—it demands emotional intelligence.

This is more than bad publicity. It’s a reflection of how some of our leaders treat their role, not as a duty to serve the people with dignity, but as a platform to build their own brand, often at the expense of sensitivity and respect. This cannot be the standard for governance.

Leadership in a disaster demands more than a title or a position. It demands empathy, the ability to put oneself in the shoes of a struggling parent or a rescue volunteer. It demands urgency to act because every second matters when lives are at stake. And it demands professionalism, the kind that doesn’t treat national emergencies as punchlines for social media.

Moreover, the numbers on the ground speak volumes. According to the Office of Civil Defense, 533,213 families have been affected. Over 25,000 families are currently in evacuation centers. And these numbers are not just statistics — they are lives. They are stories of adversity, survival, and pain.

Filipinos are not asking for perfect leaders. They are asking leaders who care. Leaders who know that words can heal or hurt, inform or confuse, empower or insult. In times of disaster, humor may have its place but not when the house is flooded, the child is hungry, and the people are desperate for answers.

If our leaders are to earn the trust of the people, they must treat every word they release as a public good. They must speak not just with confidence, but with a conscience. They must remember that the voice of the state carries weight.

Secretary Remulla’s style may be “naturally humorous,” but leadership is not about personal style. It’s about public service. And public service, especially during a crisis, is important. It is the one thread that must remain unbroken between the government and the people.

Let this be a reminder to all public officials; your voice is not your own, it belongs to the people who elected you, and those who depend on you in their most vulnerable moments. You are not just speaking to the people — you are speaking to them.

So, speak with dignity. Speak with urgency. Speaking like life depends on it, because they do.

Filipinos deserve more than apologies after the damage is done. They deserve leaders who understand that in a crisis, every post matters, every word matters because every life matters.

Lives are at stake. Let us speak and lead accordingly.