During the onslaught of Typhoon Uwan, Tuguegarao City Mayor Maila Ting-Que went live on Facebook to urge her constituents to evacuate.

“Yung gamit ninyo mapapalitan. Yung animals mapapalitan. Ang buhay ng tao, isa lang, hindi mapapalitan,” she said.

In moments of crisis, language carries moral weight. When officials speak, they shape how citizens value life in all its forms. The word mapapalitan — “replaceable” — unintentionally reinforced the idea that animals are disposable, that their suffering is acceptable collateral damage.

An alternative the mayor could have said might have been:

“Mag-evacuate kayo nang maaga. Mahalaga ang buhay ninyo, at mahalaga rin ang buhay ng mga hayop na nakasalalay sa inyo. Maging handa nang mas maraming buhay ang ating maisalba.”

Such a message preserves the urgency of evacuation without diminishing compassion for animals.

To say animals are replaceable is to forget that, for many families, they are family.

Every credible disaster framework now recognizes that the welfare of animals is intertwined with human survival. When pets are left behind, people grieve, resist evacuation, and risk their own lives. When animals are planned for — when shelters make space for them — more lives are saved, human and non-human alike.

The Animal Welfare Act of the Philippines and the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Plan both call for this integration. Yet on the ground, animal protection remains an afterthought. Local governments still speak as though empathy were a scarce resource to be rationed in times of crisis.

Leadership in disaster communication demands empathy that includes, rather than excludes.

Every typhoon tests more than our infrastructure; it tests the breadth of our humanity.

We should do better.