Children started running and crying as the ground shook beneath them
On a Monday morning in June 2026, the earth along the Cotabato Trench shifted with a force of 7.8 magnitude, visiting sudden devastation upon the southern Philippine island of Mindanao — a place that has known this kind of reckoning before. At least 37 lives have been lost and hundreds more wounded, with the full human cost still obscured by landslides, severed roads, and the relentless trembling of aftershocks that refuse to let the ground settle. The Philippines, perched on the Pacific Ring of Fire, is no stranger to seismic grief, yet each earthquake arrives as if for the first time — erasing homes, scattering families, and demanding once again that communities find the will to endure.
- A 7.8-magnitude earthquake struck Mindanao on Monday morning, killing at least 37 people and injuring nearly 500, with officials openly warning that the death toll has not yet found its ceiling.
- Hundreds of aftershocks continue to shake the island, keeping survivors in a state of raw fear and forcing rescue teams to work under conditions that could at any moment become more dangerous.
- Nearly 2,000 homes and roughly 6,000 schools have been damaged or destroyed, while landslides have severed key roads and cut entire communities off from electricity, communication, and incoming aid.
- The Cotabato Trench — the same fault that produced a 1976 earthquake and tsunami killing 5,000 people — is the source of this rupture, casting a historical dread over current rescue and relief operations.
- President Marcos has deployed cabinet secretaries to the disaster zone, and relief supplies are being airlifted into towns where the only highway lies buried, as the government races to reach the most isolated survivors.
A magnitude 7.8 earthquake struck the southern Philippines on Monday morning, killing at least 37 people and injuring 487, with officials warning the toll will rise as rescue teams push into damaged coastal communities across Mindanao island. Hundreds of aftershocks have continued to rattle the region, keeping residents in a state of alarm and complicating search and rescue operations at every turn.
The destruction is vast and still being measured. Nearly 2,000 homes and around 6,000 public schools have been damaged or destroyed. Roads are fractured or buried under landslides, and wide stretches of Mindanao remain without electricity or telephone service. Bernardo Alejandro of the national disaster response agency acknowledged the grim reality plainly: "Our priority today is search and rescue."
The quake originated along the Cotabato Trench, the same fault line that produced a 7.9-magnitude earthquake in 1976 — one that triggered a tsunami killing roughly 5,000 people. That historical shadow now hangs over current efforts. The Philippines sits on the Pacific Ring of Fire, where earthquakes are not rare catastrophes but recurring features of life.
For those caught in the moment, the experience was unforgettable. Construction worker Ramel Pato was dropping his three children at school in Polomolok when the ground began to shake violently. Drawing on a childhood memory of a smaller quake, he stayed calm. In Lebak town, teacher Cesar Sundo described the shaking as being "vigorously rocked on a hammock for more than two minutes." Thousands of students were fortunate to have been outside for the morning flag ceremony when the quake struck — a routine that science minister Renato Solidum credited with saving many lives.
In Jose Abad Santos, landslides have buried the only highway, leaving half the town cut off from road access. Mayor Jason John Joyce said relief supplies must now be flown into remote villages. President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. dispatched his transportation and health secretaries to oversee operations on the ground, where doctors continued treating the injured even as strong aftershocks shook the island beneath their feet.
A magnitude 7.8 earthquake tore through the southern Philippines on Monday morning, leaving at least 37 people dead and 487 injured, with officials bracing for the toll to climb as rescue teams push deeper into damaged coastal towns across Mindanao island. Hundreds of aftershocks have continued to rattle the region since the initial quake, complicating search and rescue operations and keeping residents in a state of heightened alarm.
The scale of the destruction is becoming visible as emergency responders reach the hardest-hit areas. Nearly 2,000 homes have been damaged or destroyed, along with approximately 6,000 public schools. Roads are fractured or buried under landslides. Entire swaths of Mindanao remain without electricity or telephone service, isolating communities and hampering coordination efforts. Bernardo Alejandro, assistant secretary of the national disaster response agency, told local radio that officials are bracing for casualty figures to rise. "Our priority today is search and rescue," he said, acknowledging the grim arithmetic of a disaster still unfolding.
The earthquake originated from movement along the Cotabato Trench, a geological fault line off the country's southern tip known for generating massive seismic events. The same trench produced a magnitude 7.9 quake in 1976 that triggered a tsunami killing roughly 5,000 people—a historical shadow that now hangs over current rescue efforts. The Philippines sits squarely on the Pacific Ring of Fire, a zone of intense seismic and volcanic activity, making earthquakes a recurring hazard rather than a rare catastrophe.
For those caught in the quake's immediate grip, the experience was visceral and terrifying. Ramel Pato, a construction worker, was dropping his three children—aged nine, 12, and 13—at school in Polomolok town when the ground began to shake violently. "Children started running and crying," he recalled. Pato had survived a weaker earthquake as a child in 1998 and drew on that memory to stay calm, knowing panic would cloud his judgment in a moment when clear thinking mattered.
At a school in Lebak town, teacher Cesar Sundo experienced the quake as a prolonged, intensifying assault. "Being vigorously rocked on a hammock for more than two minutes," he said, describing how the shaking grew stronger with each passing second. Thousands of students—mostly 13-year-olds—began shouting and crying as the building moved around them. Sundo and his colleagues worked to calm the children while keeping them on school grounds until it was safe to send them home. The students, he noted, were fortunate to have been outside during the morning flag ceremony when the quake struck. Science minister Renato Solidum, a veteran seismologist, confirmed that many students owed their safety to that routine: being outdoors and able to drop to the ground rather than being trapped inside collapsing structures.
One viral video captured the moment a Jollibee fast-food restaurant in General Santos City crumbled to rubble as horrified onlookers watched. The chain later confirmed that all staff in affected areas had survived. The image became emblematic of the quake's indiscriminate destructive power, collapsing even well-built commercial structures.
Access to some communities remains severely compromised. In Jose Abad Santos, a town on Mindanao's east side, landslides have buried the only highway, leaving half the town cut off from road access. Mayor Jason John Joyce told local radio that relief supplies now have to be flown into remote villages, a logistical challenge that slows the delivery of food, water, and medical aid to the most isolated residents. President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. mobilized the full machinery of government in response, dispatching his transportation and health secretaries from Manila to oversee operations on the ground. Health Secretary Teodoro Herbosa arrived to find doctors treating the injured even as strong aftershocks continued to shake the island, a grim reminder that the disaster is far from over.
Citas Notables
Our priority today is search and rescue. We hope the death toll does not increase further, but we are expecting it to move.— Bernardo Alejandro, assistant secretary of the national disaster response agency
They were lucky to be outside. They were able to stay put and sit down.— Renato Solidum, science minister and seismologist, on why students attending the morning flag ceremony survived
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does the death toll keep changing? Is it really going to rise significantly?
The initial count of 37 is what they've confirmed so far, but rescue teams are still reaching remote coastal towns and villages. As they dig through rubble and access areas cut off by landslides, they'll find more bodies. The 1976 quake on the same fault killed about 5,000 people, so officials aren't being alarmist—they're being realistic about what these fault lines can do.
The aftershocks sound almost as frightening as the main quake. How many are we talking about?
Hundreds. Some of them quite strong. They're not just scary—they're dangerous. They can destabilize buildings that are already cracked, trigger more landslides, and they keep people from sleeping, from focusing on rescue work. It's like the island can't stop shaking.
You mentioned students being saved by a flag ceremony. That seems almost too lucky to be true.
It's real. In the Philippines, schools hold a flag ceremony every Monday morning outdoors. When the quake hit, thousands of students were standing outside instead of sitting in classrooms. If they'd been inside, the casualty count would be catastrophically higher. The science minister called it luck, but it's the kind of luck that saves lives.
What's the biggest obstacle to rescue right now?
Access. Landslides have buried roads. Whole towns are cut off. You can't get heavy equipment in, you can't get supplies in easily. Some communities are so isolated that relief goods have to be flown in by helicopter. That slows everything down—the search, the rescue, the delivery of aid.
Is there a sense that this could happen again soon?
Absolutely. The Cotabato Trench is still active. The hundreds of aftershocks are a reminder that the earth hasn't finished moving. People are sleeping outside, staying alert. There's a kind of collective held breath.