When Science Speaks, but People Don’t Hear: The Monterrazas Disconnect

 

Photo courtesy of Philippine Daily Inquirer

In the aftermath of disaster, explanations matter. But more importantly, how those explanations are delivered - and what they leave out - can shape whether they heal or deepen the wound.

The controversy surrounding Monterrazas de Cebu and Slater Young sits precisely at that fault line. At first glance, the issue appears technical: a study has been conducted, conclusions drawn, and a defence articulated. The rainfall was extreme. The models indicate that the project did not significantly contribute to the flooding. In fact, the design was said to mitigate its effects.

From a purely scientific standpoint, that may well be correct.

But the problem is this: being technically correct is not always the same as being socially complete.

 

The Limits of “Public” Science

The study at the centre of the defence is, by most accounts, scientifically robust. Yet accessibility remains a major issue. Even individuals with some background in statistics or hazard mapping may struggle to fully engage with its contents. For the general public, especially those directly affected - the report is not just dense; it is effectively opaque.

This creates a troubling asymmetry.

On one side, the study is invoked as authoritative proof. On the other, the very people expected to accept its conclusions cannot meaningfully interrogate it. In this context, transparency without accessibility risks becoming performative. A document may be public, but if it cannot be understood, it cannot build trust.

 

A Technically Complete, but Narrow Argument

The core of the defence is relatively straightforward:

The study shows that the project did not contribute to the flooding, and that its design may have even mitigated the effects. Therefore, the project is not responsible.

This is a logically coherent argument - but it operates almost entirely at the level of design and modelling. What it does not fully address is the layer in which most real-world outcomes are actually produced: implementation.

Infrastructure is not experienced as design. It is experienced as use. Between what is engineered on paper and what unfolds on the ground lies a complex system of:

• human behaviour
• maintenance practices
• fragmented responsibilities
• and everyday decision-making

In many contexts, including the Philippines, work culture can be highly task specific. Individuals may perform their assigned roles without necessarily engaging with the broader system those roles are meant to sustain. The result is a gap between intended function and actual performance. 

So, the question cannot stop at: “Was the design sound?” It must also extend to: “Did the system, as lived and implemented, function as intended?” Without engaging this layer, any explanation risks feeling incomplete - not because it is wrong, but because it is answering a narrower question than the one people are asking.

The Cost of Silence

Compounding this is the issue of timing.

In professional practice, there is a well-known tension: respond too early, and you risk inaccuracy; respond too late, and you lose the narrative. In this case, the response arrived after a prolonged silence - long enough for public interpretation to fill the gap.

And people do not leave gaps empty. They fill them with suspicion, frustration, and, in moments of grief, anger.

When that silence is juxtaposed with visible normalcy - holiday posts, family time - it creates a perceived disconnect. Whether fair or not, the contrast becomes part of the story. By the time a technically grounded explanation arrives, it is no longer entering a neutral space. It is entering a landscape already shaped by emotion.

Three Truth Systems, One Incomplete Conversation

What this situation ultimately reveals is not just a disagreement over facts, but a collision of three different ways of understanding truth.

• Scientific truth tells us that rainfall was extreme and that models do not identify the project as a primary cause. This is where Slater squarely stands on.
• Social truth reflects the lived experience of loss, where timing, tone, and presence matter as much as data. This is where the public is at.
• Systemic truth reminds us that real-world outcomes emerge from messy, distributed processes of implementation, not just design. This is the missing piece.

The breakdown occurs because these systems are not speaking to each other.

The response has largely operated within scientific truth: precise, defensible, and data driven. The public, however, is responding within social truth shaped by grief, perception, and the need for accountability. Meanwhile, the critical middle ground - systemic truth, where design meets reality - remains underexplored.

That is why the explanation, however robust, feels incomplete.

 

In Conclusion: Beyond Being Right

This is not to say that the science is wrong, or that the defence lacks merit. It is to say that in situations like this, being right on one level is not enough.

Explanations must do more than establish causation in technical terms. They must also:

• translate complexity into understanding
• acknowledge how systems function in practice
• and engage with the social realities in which harm is experienced

Because in the end, disasters are not only analysed. They are felt.

And when people are asking questions, they are rarely asking just for data. They are asking for a full account of what happened, across all the layers that matter. Right now, what we have is an answer that is scientifically complete, but socially and systemically unfinished.

And that is where the conversation still needs to go.