Driving in the Philippines is an adventure, no question about it. From the chaotic streets of Metro Manila to the unruly roads of the provinces, it’s a daily test of patience, skill, and sometimes sheer luck. But there is a word we keep throwing around that doesn’t sit right anymore: “accident.” It’s time we talk about why this term needs to go, and why calling road incidents “collisions”—like they do in many other places—could be a game-changer for road safety in our country. Let’s dive into the driving culture here, compare it to a place that has already made the shift, and make a case for change without pointing fingers.

My second home next to the Philippines is the Isle of Man, a tiny island in the Irish Sea where people have petrol running through their veins. The place is most famous for the annual TT races, where motorbikes race along closed-off public roads at over 300km/h. It also has no national speed limit and no fixed speed cameras, but even though people could seemingly go wild every day if they wanted to, they don’t. The road safety record of this speed-loving crown dependency is better than that of the UK next door, where strict limits and NCAP-style enforcement are in place 24/7. The reason for this is the culture that’s being fostered here. You get a lot of motoring freedom, but it comes with responsibilities.

Years ago, I asked a police friend on the island why they stopped calling crashes Road Traffic Accidents (RTA) and instead now referred to them as Road Traffic Collisions (RTC). The answer was quick and simple: Because the word “accident” suggests nobody is at fault, and that it was just fate or bad luck that you ended up wrecking your pride and joy. Cops recognized that collisions almost always have a cause—human error, bad road design, or mechanical failure. This small change in language carries weight: It holds people accountable and focuses on prevention rather than shrugging it off as unavoidable.

Back home in the Philippines, the term “accident” is everywhere. News reports, police statements, even casual conversations—someone skids into a ditch, clips a pedestrian, or rear-ends a jeepney, and it’s an aksidente. The word implies that it’s nobody’s fault, just a twist of destiny. But let’s be real: When a driver overtakes on a blind curve, ignores a red light, or texts while weaving through EDSA, that’s not fate. That’s a choice. A 2024 study on International Journal of Multidisciplinary: Applied Business and Education Research found that human error—speeding, drunk-driving, distracted driving, and aggressive behavior—is the primary cause of road crashes in Metro Manila. The study also pointed to poor road infrastructure and weak enforcement as major culprits. These aren’t random events; they’re preventable collisions.

Philippine driving culture is, frankly, a mess sometimes. Reckless overtaking, road rage, and a general disregard for traffic rules are all too common. The Philippine Statistics Authority reported 11,096 road traffic deaths in 2021, a 39% jump from 2011. That’s not just a statistic—it’s lives lost, families broken. Motorcyclists and pedestrians are hit hardest, with bad road conditions, inadequate signage, and lax enforcement making things worse. Then there’s the padrino system, where connections can sometimes outweigh consequences, muddying investigations and accountability. We called this out in the past, noting how the “eye for an eye” mentality often demands someone pays, even if the real causes—like speeding or poor road design—get glossed over.

Contrast this with the Isle of Man. It’s not a perfect place, but their approach to road safety is intentional. By calling incidents “collisions,” they signal that someone or something is responsible—whether it’s the driver, the government department tasked with maintaining the roads, or even vehicle maintenance. This mindset drives stricter enforcement, better road design, and public awareness campaigns that actually resonate. The island has fair and consistent enforcement, clear signage, and a culture that encourages defensive driving. Sure, their population is tiny compared to the Philippines—about 85,000 versus 120 million—but the principle holds: Language shapes perception, and perception shapes action.

The Philippines could learn from this. Swapping accident for collision isn’t just semantics; it’s a cultural shift. The term “collision” puts the focus on cause and effect, urging us to ask: Was it speeding? A badly lit road? A bald tire? It pushes accountability without defaulting to blame, which is key in a country where emotions often run high after a crash. The Maryland Department of Transportation cited in a Wikipedia entry, echoes this: “Crashes are no accident…many roadway crashes can be attributed to human error.” By adopting this language, we could start untangling the mess of our driving culture—where tailgating is a sport, and traffic signs are sometimes just suggestions.

Recent research backs this up. A 2021 study in Acta Medica Philippina analyzed road crashes in Metro Manila from 2005 to 2015, finding human error as the dominant factor, with speeding and alcohol intoxication as top contributors. Another 2024 study used Poisson regression to show that driver errors, like speeding and drunk-driving, accounted for 44% of crashes between 2001 and 2006. These studies scream one thing: Most crashes aren’t random. They’re collisions caused by choices or conditions we can address.

So, how do we make this change? First, the government—starting with the Department of Transportation and the Philippine National Police—needs to lead. The 2023-2028 Philippine Road Safety Action Plan is a step forward, aiming to cut road deaths by 35% by 2028. Adopting collision in official reports and media guidelines, like the UK’s National Union of Journalists did in 2023, would align with this goal. Second, media outlets (us included) need to stop sensationalizing crashes as aksidente and focus on facts over drama. Third, we need to educate drivers. Defensive driving courses, stricter licensing, and public campaigns could hammer home that collisions aren’t inevitable—they’re avoidable.

This isn’t about shaming Filipino drivers. Nobody here is reckless by nature; we’re navigating a system with potholes (literal and figurative), lax enforcement, and a culture that sometimes prioritizes bravado over safety. The Isle of Man shows that a small shift in language can spark bigger changes in mindset and policy. If we start calling crashes what they are—collisions—we might just start treating them as problems to solve, not tragedies to mourn.

Let’s take the wheel and steer toward safer roads. After all, it’s not about getting to our destination fast. It’s about getting there alive.