*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD
Floods have always been part of our lives as Filipinos.
Every typhoon season, we brace ourselves for the rising waters, for the
possibility of homes being submerged, and for lives being disrupted. We often
say it is nature’s wrath, but in truth, many of these disasters are not caused
by the skies above us. They are caused by the greed of people in power. When
money intended for flood control is stolen, when projects exist only on paper,
and when dikes collapse because they were built with substandard materials, the
floods are no longer natural—they are man-made. They are born from plunder.
The ₱1-trillion flood control anomaly is not just another
case of corruption. It is a crime so massive, so shameless, that it strips away
the dignity of an entire nation. Billions were supposedly allocated to keep
families safe from rising waters, yet entire communities still drown. Mothers
carry their children on rooftops to escape death, farmers lose their crops in
muddy currents, and workers see their small homes washed away in a single
night. These tragedies are not accidents. They are the direct consequence of
theft, of money pocketed by those who valued their own wealth over the safety
of their people.
I have seen this story repeat itself through the years. Pork
barrel, PDAF, DAP, fertilizer funds—the names of the scandals change, but the
betrayal remains the same. Congress passes budgets filled with hidden
insertions, contractors and officials conspire to make projects appear on
paper, and money changes hands while ordinary Filipinos are left to face the
floods. The Supreme Court may declare pork barrel unconstitutional, but those
in power simply invent new names and new schemes. It is as if the law is just a
suggestion, easily bent by those who know how to play the game.
This latest scandal cuts deeper because it shows that
corruption is no longer just about stolen money. Plunder kills. It kills when
children drown because a flood control project was never built. It kills when
families die in their sleep because drainage canals were left clogged and
unfinished. It kills when diseases spread in evacuation centers because funds
for proper facilities were pocketed. These deaths are not caused by typhoons
alone. They are caused by plunderers in suits who signed documents and approved
ghost projects.
I cannot help but ask: how did we get here? The
presidential–bicameral system we inherited has become a breeding ground for
corruption. Presidents are forced to bargain with lawmakers to pass budgets,
lawmakers hold projects hostage, and political clans use their seats not to
serve but to enrich themselves. Elections are not about programs or visions for
the nation—they are about family names, celebrity status, and money. Every
three or six years, the faces change, but the system stays the same.
Perhaps the answer is to change the very system that
sustains this corruption. The old 1973 Constitution, crafted under President
Ferdinand E. Marcos Sr., tried a different approach with a parliamentary model.
It was far from perfect, but it showed us a structure where leaders could be
held accountable by the legislature through a vote of no confidence. In such a
system, failure has consequences, and governments can be removed if they lose
the trust of the people’s representatives. In our present system, leaders
simply wait out their fixed terms, no matter how badly they perform.
Federalism, too, is worth considering. If regions had more
power and control over their resources, they would no longer depend solely on
Manila for development funds. Instead of being swallowed by the politics of
“insertions,” money could go directly to the communities that need it. Imagine
if local leaders in the provinces had the real authority to manage flood
control projects, without begging national politicians for approval. Maybe then
lives would be spared.
President Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. now faces this
choice. With barely three years left in his term, he must decide whether to
remain a caretaker of a broken system or to seize this moment to reshape the
country. History will not be kind to a leader who allows another wave of
plunder to pass unchecked. But history will remember the one who dared to break
the cycle.
For me, the lesson is clear: the floods that control our
nation are not just waters rising from the rivers. They are floods of plunder,
floods of betrayal, floods of greed. They drown not only our communities but
also our hopes as a people.
I believe plunder is terrorism. It is violence by theft,
violence by neglect, violence that robs people of their right to live safely
and with dignity. It should not be treated as ordinary corruption. It should be
recognized here and around the world as a crime against humanity.
But there is still hope. Timpuyog, an Ilocano word that
means unity with love, the gathering of men and women for a great cause,
reminds us that we are not helpless. If we unite with love for country and the
courage to demand accountability, we can overcome the floods—both literal and
political—that have long controlled us.
