Rizal, corruption and the price of forgetting: Integrity remains the nation’s most critical foundation
On Dec. 30, the nation again honors the martyrdom of Dr. Jose Rizal. Each year, we observe his sacrifice with ceremonies and speeches. However, the most meaningful tribute to Rizal is neither ritual nor oration. It is reflection—followed by resolve.
Rizal beyond ritual
Rizal wrote “Noli Me Tangere” (The Social Cancer) and “El Filibusterismo” (The Reign of Greed) not as historical relics of a bygone era, but as moral critiques for a society grappling with self-governance. He understood how nations could appear modern—full of roads, offices and institutions—yet still be hollowed out by privilege, impunity and indifference.
More than a century later, his warning feels less like prophecy and more like description. Friars and colonial officials no longer govern the Philippines, but the patterns that Rizal highlighted still exist.
Corruption still distorts governance. Public office remains too often viewed as a private entitlement. The most severe costs are consistently borne by those least able to handle them—communities with no buffer against failure, neglect or abuse of power by officials, fixers and contractors operating within permissive systems.
When public safety is betrayed
Nowhere is this situation more evident than in the ongoing flood control corruption scandal, where public safety is used as a cover for profiteering and public works function as channels for private gain.
During Rizal’s era, the social cancer spread through patronage, coercion and the quiet complicity of those who understood the abuse but remained silent.
Today, it appears in technical reports, project signboards and completion certificates that claim success even when the actual work is flawed, unfinished or nonexistent. The language may sound administrative—“anomalies,” “irregularities”—but the reality is tangible and devastating.
Flood control projects meant to safeguard communities were undermined by inflated costs, poor-quality materials, colluding contractors and false execution.
This scandal isn’t just about embezzled funds; it’s about stolen futures. It involves projects that were never built, dikes that fail and cities that remain flooded—not only with water but also in official denial. Every peso diverted puts lives at risk as the rains inevitably return.
Reports of large, questionable disbursements, a limited pool of repeatedly favored contractors and projects that do not meet expectations have led to investigations, resignations and extraordinary measures. Nonetheless, concerns remain about whether a few individuals can avoid accountability. The greater risk to the country, however, is whether the systems that enable corruption remain in place—poised to reemerge once public attention shifts.
A century hence—and still
Rizal foresaw this danger. In his essay, “The Philippines a Century Hence”, he questioned what kind of nation Filipinos would become once they achieved self-rule: one rooted in education, civic virtue and responsibility, or one weakened by factionalism, greed and the abuse of authority. We are now living in that “century hence,” and the flood control scandal serves as a troubling sign of how fragile our moral foundations still are.
Rizal, however, was not a prophet of despair. His critique was thorough because his expectations were high. He believed Filipinos could practice ethical self-rule, but only if they confronted uncomfortable truths and resisted the temptation to accept decay as normal.
This distinction is especially crucial when reading Noli alongside Fili. The first novel advocates reform through education and institutional change. The second reveals the anger that results when reform is repeatedly blocked, co-opted or betrayed.
In Rizal’s writing, revolution doesn’t come from ideology alone. It occurs when injustice becomes systemic, lawful solutions are exhausted and institutions meant to protect the public instead shield wrongdoing. Rizal did not want this outcome; he warned against the circumstances that made it unavoidable.
Responsibility without illusion
For those in government, the lesson is clear. Flood control is not just a political accessory; it is a matter of life, safety and dignity. Transparency must go beyond slogans to full disclosure: clear project pipelines, geotagged, independently verified progress reports, rigorous quality audits and consequences that reach beyond the expendables to those shielded.
For the private sector, the challenge is equally clear. Normalizing kickbacks as “the cost of doing business” weakens competitiveness, discourages genuine investment and harms long-term growth.
A system that promotes underbuilding and overbilling is not only unethical; it is economically counterproductive.
Civil society, meanwhile, must resist complacency. Corruption thrives on forgetfulness. Few phrases are more damaging to a nation than “ganyan talaga. (It’s normal.)”
Rizal understood that the true social cancer was not limited to the government (or the church then), but took root in apathy—quietly accepting that nothing would ever change. That, more than any scandal, is what ultimately weakens nations.
What must be built
The necessary reform is both procedural and cultural. It aims to eliminate “completion” without results, “compliance” without substance and “oversight” without consequences. It involves embedding transparency and ethical discipline into systems, incentives and enforcement—making honesty mandatory and preventing abuse from thriving.
We do not honor Rizal just by quoting him ceremonially or by putting his novels in classrooms. We honor him by making sure that public funds benefit the people, that public works genuinely serve the public and that accountability reaches not only the powerless but also those who have long enjoyed impunity.
As we observe Rizal Day, remembrance must come with responsibility. Rizal did not offer comfort; he presented a challenge. He trusted future generations of Filipinos to finish what he started—not by venerating his memory, but by confronting the truths he exposed.
We need more Filipinos who see Rizal not simply as history, but as a gentle call to root out social cancer—and end the reign of greed.
The author is former president of the Management Association of the Philippines (MAP). He served as secretary of trade and industry, president of University of the Philippines system, CEO of Institute of Corporate Directors and director of Private Sector Operations and Advisor for Public-Private Partnerships at Asian Development Bank (ADB). Feedback at map@map.org.ph and aepascual@gmail.com.
