The P7.2-Trillion Cake: Who Gets the Biggest Slice?
If P7.2 trillion were placed on the floor of the House of Representatives, would our congressmen first count it, approve it, or quietly wonder who was taking it home? The proposed 2027 national budget is a staggering sum in a country where millions still worry about rice, rent, medicine, school fees, and whether another trip to the gasoline station will leave enough money for dinner.
The government says the money is for development, education, health, infrastructure, and social protection. All admirable words. Nobody, after all, stands before Congress and announces a budget for potholes, patronage, and political selfies. Still, does the Philippines really need P7.2 trillion, or have we simply become very imaginative when it comes to finding things to spend it on?
Japan, South Korea, Singapore, Thailand, and Vietnam all manage substantial public budgets. But comparing them by peso equivalent is not particularly illuminating. It is like comparing the grocery bills of two households without checking how many people are waiting around the dining table. The more revealing comparison is what happens when public money goes astray.
Japan has its Board of Audit, South Korea its Board of Audit and Inspection, and Singapore its Auditor-General. Their systems are not flawless, but the idea is wonderfully uncomplicated: public money leaves a trail, and someone is expected to follow it.
We have the Department of Budget and Management (DBM) and Commission on Audit. DBM helps construct and regulate the government’s spending program. Sometimes it feels like arriving at a birthday party after the cake has vanished and asking whether anyone happened to save a slice. Except the cake here can cost billions.
Take flood control. The country has been shaken by allegations involving ghost, defective, and questionable projects, while investigations continue. Yet flood control remains heavily funded because Filipinos still need protection from floods.
Congress has often been quick to put money into projects. It would be reassuring if the same urgency accompanied the less glamorous work of checking what those projects actually produced. Appropriations make headlines. Audits usually do not.
Then there is social welfare. The Pantawid Pamilyang Pilipino Program remains essential to millions of poor families, but audits have raised concerns about duplicate records, improper payments, and beneficiaries remaining in the program for years. The Assistance to Individuals in Crisis Situation, meant for people in crisis, has likewise faced allegations of political interference. In one Iloilo case, officials were accused of forcing beneficiaries to surrender most of a P10,000 assistance payment.
David Miliband, the former British foreign secretary, described impunity as “the exercise of power without accountability.” It is difficult to think of a more useful sentence when discussing P7.2 trillion.
Here, scandal often seems to age remarkably well for everyone except the public. Hearings come and go. Officials deny, explain, apologize, or promise reforms. Social media moves on to another outrage. Eventually the scandal becomes part of the national wallpaper, and the same political machinery carries on.
Perhaps the Philippines genuinely needs P7.2 trillion. But it needs something equally important: a system capable of following every peso and making abuse costly enough that the next person thinks twice. The taxpayer has already contributed. Now let those entrusted with his money explain where it went. Preferably before asking him for more.
CYRAIN CABUENAS,
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