When corruption could no longer hide
The year 2025 will likely be remembered as a turning point in our nation’s history—a moment when corruption reached such magnitude that it could no longer be concealed or excused. Its scale and consequences became so damaging to the public good that denial itself ceased to be plausible.
For decades, corruption in public office had been tolerated as an integral perk of power. It was rationalized as a by-product of a patronage-driven political system, its excesses softened by the belief that some benefits eventually trickled down. Lawmakers routinely inserted questionable items into the national budget, justifying them as legislative prerogatives and keeping them within what was assumed to be a “manageable” range.
That equilibrium collapsed in 2025, driven by three developments few had anticipated.
First, destructive floods laid bare the consequences of years of neglect and plunder. Extreme weather easily overwhelmed flood control systems that, in many places, proved to be substandard or altogether missing. Billions of pesos spent on these projects—earlier touted by President Marcos as a centerpiece of his administration—were revealed as evidence of shoddy construction, gross overpricing, or outright fabrication.
Second, the ease with which public works funds could be siphoned off led to an escalation in scale and brazenness. Kickbacks grew larger, more actors demanded a share, and soon there was nothing left to skim except entire budgets. Ghost projects proliferated: funds were released for structures that were never built, paperwork replaced concrete, and audit mechanisms became instruments of concealment. Flood control ceased to be about protection; it became a favored system for private extraction.
Third, Congress’ extensive reworking of the 2025 National Expenditure Program resulted in a budget the executive could barely recognize. Through “adjustments,” “insertions,” and “unprogrammed allocations,” lawmakers reshaped the budget to serve parochial interests. In a rare public rebuke, Mr. Marcos reacted by ending his State of the Nation Address in July last year with a pointed admonition: “Mahiya naman kayo!”
The standing ovation that followed—apparently oblivious to the message’s target—only deepened public disgust. Few expected what came next. Two weeks later, the President released the names of 15 contractors that had cornered at least a fifth of all flood control projects since 2022. Notably, he named no legislators or senior officials.
Instead, he announced a digital portal inviting citizens to report on the actual state of flood control projects. By acting before a full-blown crisis of confidence erupted, Mr. Marcos cast himself as a reformist whistleblower within a corrupt system.
In the age of social media, however, narratives are hard to contain. Identifying the beneficial owners of the named construction firms took little effort. Journalists and netizens quickly traced them to members of Congress, powerful political families, and major campaign financiers. Former party list representative Zaldy Co, once head of the House appropriations committee, emerged as a central figure. Through a series of videos sent from abroad, he retaliated by implicating top officials within the administration, suggesting presidential complicity.
This is the reality we face today: an entire government engulfed in a crisis of credibility, compounded by economic strain and public anger. With national elections still more than two years away, frustration has nowhere obvious to go.
Yet something has shifted. What distinguishes this moment from the 2013 Napoles scam involving the budgetary feature known as the Priority Development Assistance Fund is not the moral outrage—of that we have never been short—but the impossibility of denying it. Corruption became visible in ways that ordinary citizens could easily recognize, document, and call out. Once exposed, it proved harder to fold it back into silence or routine.
We know that simply changing leaders will not solve the problem. But exposing corruption can have real political impact. If citizens remain vigilant and push for lasting institutional reforms, the public engagement seen in 2025 could be the start of a long and challenging process of rebuilding trust in our institutions. This effort should focus less on personalities and more on restoring boundaries, accountability, and restraint to those in power.
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