March 11, 2026 – Many might say that the rise in petrol prices is only a car-owner’s problem. Little did many know that many aspects of our daily lives depend on petrol. From commuting to and from work to deliveries of goods, everyone is affected by it. It’s funny how we think petrol only matters when we’re filling up a car. In reality, it’s like a hidden cost woven into the price tag of almost everything we buy.

Commuters’ Reality

I ride public transportation most days of the week. It’s cheaper. But with the significant rise in petrol prices, I fear that the fare for public transport would also increase. It’s a domino effect I have seen every time there is a price hike, and I can already see the possibility. I used to ignore the prices in a gasoline station until I realized that those figures are the silent factors of my daily budget.

It starts with a few extra pesos or cents added to the “minimum fare.” While it seems small per trip, it compounds into hundreds by the end of the month. High fuel costs don’t just make rides more expensive; they make them rarer. When drivers can’t afford to keep their vehicles on the road, the “cheap” option suddenly costs me an extra 30 minutes of standing in line. Lastly, even if I walk to the market to save on fare, I’m still paying for petrol. The vendor at the wet market has to pay more for the delivery truck that brought the vegetables from the farm. In the end, I’m “eating” the fuel hike with every meal.

As of March 9, 2026, the Department of Energy, with guidance from the National Government, imposed nationwide price ceilings for petrol products. This move, according to the department, is to protect consumers from potential exploitation in supplies amid the crisis in the Middle East. The directive applies to all retail outlets, including – including both company-owned and dealer-operated stations.

Honestly, I do not fully understand how this directive ensures fair pricing – especially for regular Filipinos – but I hope it will not compromise the people’s access to basic necessities. While a price limit helps for now, it is just a bandage. We need a plan that ensures we can still afford basic needs even when global prices shift.

Filipino Resilience

Filipinos are known for being resilient. We are a master of flexibility in crisis situations. We have a habit of romanticizing our ability to endure. We find humor in the struggle and call it strength. But when the cost of a basic commute competes with the cost of a kilo of rice, resilience starts to feel a lot like exhaustion.

For some, resilience looks like skipping the morning coffee to cover the fare hike, or walking the last two kilometers to save ten pesos. We also developed the “pasa-buy” culture where neighbors or friends pool their resources to minimize expenses. For keyboard warriors, resilience hides behind “memes” and those funny videos and commentaries.

Moving Ahead

This is a Thanos-like effect – it’s inevitable. One snap, one major crisis and everything will change. Whether we are behind the wheel or gripping a handrail, the rising cost of fuel is a weight we all carry. While the price ceilings offer a temporary wall for the fire, the long-term solution lies in a transport and economic system that doesn’t leave the most vulnerable at the mercy of a global ticker.

Filipinos have always found a way to keep moving, but resilience is often exploited by people in power. We must demand good governance even in economic crisis situations. My hope is that in the coming months (or years), people in power bring more than just controlled prices. I hope that our leaders will have a sense of stability to plan for long-term solutions,  rather than putting another band-aid.

“All for Gas” should not mean sacrificing our basic comforts just to keep the country running. Instead, we must work toward a future where “Gas for All” means an economy that is accessible, fair, and, most importantly, humane. We are all passengers on this journey, and it’s about time the road was made a little smoother for everyone.

For PCID Convenor, civic leader, and humanitarian advocate Samira Gutoc, the Marawi siege is not a distant memory. It is a lived experience and a continuing crisis. Speaking at a 2025 World Refugee Day panel titled “Stories of Displacement: Palestine & Beyond,” organized by the Palestine Collective and the Philippine Center for Islam and Democracy at De La Salle University, Ms. Gutoc’s account of the Marawi siege served as a mirror that reflected cracks in the broken system of the Philippines. 

“There was no structural support to bring people, senior citizens, pregnant women to a form of transportation,” she says. “It was like a death march, with 6-12 hours of walking from Marawi to a place of light. From Marawi to a place of resettlement. From Marawi to a place where you can seek refuge and safety.” 

A native of Marawi herself, Samira Gutoc provides a firsthand account of the systemic neglect IDPs face in national policymaking. “There have been no structural laws to address displacement from calamity and conflicts between people,” she stressed, pointing to a critical gap in legislative protection and long-term support. 

Amid this silence, Ms. Gutoc finds importance in the role of interfaith dialogue, an essential tool in mending and uniting communities. “In Islam, love means that if you kill one person, it is as if you kill the whole of humanity. In Christianity, they say to love thy neighbor as thyself. In Jew, love yourself as if you love your neighbor.” Although these quotes come from different religious books, they all hold the same essence. “There is no difference between the three Abrahamic religions,” she added, highlighting humanity’s shared capacity for compassion, respect, and peace, despite diversity and differences.

Ms. Gutoc also recalled the story of Father Terisito “Chito” Suganob, a Christian priest held captive during the siege. Muslim leaders swiftly ordered his rescue, risking their lives to save someone of a different faith.  At the same time, Christian volunteers rushed into Iligan City, under martial law, to aid thousands of displaced Muslim evacuees. As a rescue volunteer herself, Ms. Gutoc saw these acts of courage and solidarity firsthand. These stories, she emphasized, show how interfaith action can persist even in times of war.

But displacement, she added, is not a singular event. “Displaced persons continue to be fundamental stories that we, and the youth, must continue to champion and rally,” she said. Displacement serves more than physical ties; it threatens the survival of identity, tradition, and culture. In Marawi, for example, weaving is more than an art form. It is a vibrant expression of resilience, history, and community. Yet, for many displaced children, the opportunity to learn this tradition is lost.

Thus, storytelling becomes an act of preservation and resistance. The voices of IDPs must not only be heard; they must be woven into the fabric of law and protected through deliberate action. Ms. Gutoc’s call is clear: justice must be rooted in compassion, and peace must be interlaced with faith. Only then can displaced communities begin to rebuild not just homes, but also lives.