The Palace says it is “open” to Bayanihan 3 — open to studying it, open to supporting it, open in effect to the idea that something must be done once the details are clearer and the politics has settled.

We have heard this before.

During the Covid-19 pandemic, the Duterte administration moved quickly, pushing cash into the hands of people who had suddenly lost their income while stabilizing collapsing sectors.

Today, the urgency feels negotiable, softened by qualifiers and framed in caution.

Bayanihan 3 is being proposed in response to the rising oil prices driven by the tensions in the Middle East.

It is being described by the Marcos administration as not being heavy on aid — but is more of a measured, calibrated response to balance relief with restraint.

Oil shocks do not arrive gradually. First at the pump, then in transport fares, then in food prices, until what began as a geopolitical event somewhere far away ends up on the dinner table of families who have no stake in it.

Still, the response forming looks like what we always reach for, “ayuda” (aid) layered over a structure left largely unchanged, accompanied by talk of long-term solutions that are acknowledged and then set aside.

We import fuel, absorb global price swings, scramble for relief and when prices ease, we move on, only to repeat the cycle when the next disruption comes.

So what is Bayanihan 3 meant to be? Because the problem is not simply that prices have gone up again, but that we remain exposed in the same way as before.

The Philippines still has no meaningful strategic petroleum reserves, no buffer that would allow the government to release supplies when prices spike, no cushion that buys time when global markets turn volatile, which means every increase abroad translates almost instantly into domestic pain.

We continue to rely on spot market purchases, buying at prevailing prices instead of securing more stable supply arrangements that could soften the swings, operating in a market we do not control and reacting to outcomes as if they were unforeseen.

The Marcos administration may not even have a full, real-time insight on fuel inventories and distribution, which means that decisions are made without a complete picture of the supply chain that affects every Filipino.

Then there is the question that lingers, rarely addressed directly, of whether the market that we are told is free is actually behaving that way.

The Oil Deregulation Law was meant to encourage competition and bring prices down, yet what we have instead is a market dominated by a few major players, where price movements often move in step, feeding perceptions of cartel-like behavior.

No one is arguing for full state control, but it is just as unrealistic to claim that deregulation, as it stands, has delivered genuine competition.

There are options in between — temporary price stabilization during extreme volatility, closer scrutiny of margins when prices surge, stronger enforcement by the Philippine Competition Commission, even limited state participation in importation when the market fails to protect the public.

These are not radical ideas, but they are uncomfortable ones, which may explain why they remain on the margins.

Instead, we return to Bayanihan. Cash aid will help, as it always does, easing the immediate burden but fading quickly, leaving the same exposure in place.

The Duterte administration treated a once-in-a-century pandemic as an emergency that demanded swift action. The Marcos administration faces a recurring vulnerability and responds with lackadaisical caution.

One acted as if the house was on fire; the other is still watching the smoke.