How Filipinos cope with energy insecurity
Electricity is treated as a given, until it isn’t.
In far too many parts of the Philippines, energy insecurity is not an anomaly but a way of life. In Puerto Galera, Oriental Mindoro, we met a father of three who has lived without electricity since the pandemic. His power was disconnected due to unpaid bills, and for three years, his family endured darkness in the most literal sense. No fan, no cold storage for food, no light for homework. What many experience as an inconvenience is, for others, chronic exclusion. This is the face of energy poverty in the Philippines, and it is far more common than we care to admit.
When the lights go out, it is often mothers—the “ilaw ng tahanan”—who carry the heaviest load. They stretch food without refrigeration, comfort restless children in sweltering nights, and light candles so students can study.
The youth are not spared either. When electricity is cut, it is the student in a rural barangay who can’t log into an online class or the out-of-school youth whose small loading business shuts down for the day. These are not side stories; they are central to the national cost of a power system that continues to fail those who rely on it the most.
In Siargao, a two-week blackout during peak tourist season crippled local businesses, according to reports. Despite a 323-percent surge in tourist arrivals in 2023, the economy is being undermined by an unreliable grid. In Iloilo, a four-day outage in January 2024 caused P1.5 billion in losses (Castor, 2024). In Samal Island, annual losses to the tourism sector are seen at P50 million, citing persistent power outages as a critical threat. Across the country, hotels and restaurants spend up to P10,000 a day on generator fuel just to stay afloat (Ilaw, 2025).
Energy insecurity corrodes the core functions of society. Hospitals suspend procedures. Classrooms fall silent. Businesses lose revenue. In the worst cases, power interruptions mean life-threatening consequences. These failures are widespread, systemic, and decades in the making.
But beyond technical failures lies a deeper crisis: corruption and mismanagement. A 2023 study by the Philippine Institute for Development Studies found that weaknesses in governance and lack of accountability were among the top barriers to energy security (Navarro et al., 2024). Consumer groups have long pointed out how underperforming electric cooperatives are shielded by political patrons instead of being held to standards. The Commission on Audit flagged in 2022 that billions in subsidies and universal charges collected for electrification were either unspent or poorly accounted for, leaving remote communities literally in the dark.
Our focus group discussions with tourism operators confirmed this frustration. In January 2024, a four-day blackout on Panay Island caused P1.5 billion loss to Iloilo City alone (Castor, 2024). Business owners reported daily losses ranging from P5,000 to P100,000 when outages occur (Ilaw, 2025). Many cited opaque billing, slow restoration times, and the perception that corruption protects providers from penalties. Even lifeline subsidies meant for low-income households are undermined by leakages. These systemic failures breed mistrust and leave consumers paying more for less reliable service.
Energy is not a privilege. It is a basic right. Ensuring it requires more than patchwork fixes. The government must invest in resilient, climate-proof systems, but it must also confront corruption head-on. Performance audits of electric cooperatives should be transparent and publicly accessible. Regulators must enforce penalties for prolonged service failures, not just issue warnings. Local governments and communities, meanwhile, need the autonomy and resources to pursue decentralized hybrid systems without having to navigate bureaucratic capture.
Civil society must continue pressing for reform. We cannot normalize chronic power instability, nor accept corruption as the cost of keeping the lights on. Energy justice means ensuring that no household or enterprise is excluded from opportunity due to darkness or dishonesty.
Energy security is about more than kilowatt-hours. It determines whether vaccines remain cold, whether a sari-sari store can survive, and whether a child can study at night. The lights have stayed off in too many homes for too long. It is time to confront not only the shortages but the corruption that keeps Filipinos in the dark.
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Francine Beatriz Pradez, youth convener at Ilaw, is a Filipino geologist driving impact at the nexus of climate justice, gender equity, and energy access.
