*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD
As the flood control corruption probe cuts deeper, I notice a troubling shift. Instead of standing firm and facing the truth, some senators are now floating the idea of changing the Senate leadership. The timing is too convenient to be coincidence. When the waters of accountability rise, the instinct of the guilty is not to stand their ground—it is to move the markers and pretend the flood is lower.
This is what we are witnessing. A Senate leadership change is being painted as reform, but in reality, it looks more like escape. The problem, we are told, is “mishandling” of the investigation. But the truth is simpler: the probe is cutting too close, and those with something to lose want the spotlight shifted.
I cannot forget Senator Ping Lacson’s disclosure: nearly all senators in the previous term, except two, had budget insertions amounting to more than ₱100 billion. Many were hidden under “for later release” provisions—technical smokescreens designed to delay scrutiny and conceal irregularities. These weren’t harmless numbers. They were lifelines withheld from the people, flood control projects that existed only on paper, dikes that collapsed not from rain but from corruption.
Now, as these mechanisms are being exposed, the response is not to dig deeper but to reshuffle leadership. But let us be clear: changing the one who holds the gavel will not wash away the signatures on the documents. It will not bring back homes swallowed by floods or the children lost to swollen rivers. Shifting power in the Senate is no substitute for accountability.
To say it is “awkward” for senators to investigate their own colleagues is an insult. Awkward is watching floodwaters sweep away your family’s future. Awkward is burying a loved one who died because government funds for disaster prevention were stolen. Accountability is not awkward. It is justice. It is duty.
Leadership change, under these circumstances, is not an act of courage—it is a retreat disguised as reform. It is like moving flood markers down a riverbank so the water seems lower, while in truth the current keeps rising and sweeping away lives.
The Filipino people are not blind. We see through the performance. We know that every time politicians exchange courage for convenience, we are the ones who drown in the consequences.
The flood control scandal is not just about corruption. It is about betrayal—the betrayal of public trust, the betrayal of service, the betrayal of the very oath to protect the people. And when senators try to change leadership not to strengthen accountability but to weaken it, they reveal where their loyalties truly lie: not with the people, but with their own survival.
Floodwaters, no matter how high, eventually recede. But the damage they leave behind remains. Political cowardice works the same way. It seeps through cracks, avoids resistance, and leaves destruction long after the waters go down.
And this is why I say: enough of the games, enough of the musical chairs. The Senate must stop pretending that swapping leaders will solve anything. The real test of integrity is not who holds the gavel—it is who has the courage to face the truth, even when that truth is ugly and points back to their own hands.
The people are watching. History is recording. The question
now is simple: will the Senate rise above cowardice, or will it drown in its
own betrayal?
