When a Political Party’s Discipline Dies, Corruption Reigns

*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD, DM

I was only six years old when leadership first touched my life.

In a small Grade 1 classroom—with its wooden chairs, dusty erasers, and a chalkboard that towered like a wall of authority—I heard my name called as the newly elected Class President. I didn’t fully understand the weight of that title then. All I knew was that beside my name on the board were the words President, Secretary, Sergeant-at-Arms, and Treasurer. Together, we were entrusted with the responsibility to keep our class in order whenever our teacher stepped outside.

One afternoon, our teacher left for a meeting. And like many Grade 1 rooms in the Philippines, the moment she closed the door, chaos erupted.

A classmate began running around, shouting, banging chairs, disturbing everyone. As Class President, it was my job to keep the peace. I called him to order. The sergeant-at-arms wrote his name on the board. Still, he ignored us. He believed the absence of the teacher gave him absolute freedom to misbehave.

When our teacher returned and saw the messy board filled with names, she didn’t scold the noisy child first.

She looked at me.

Directly.

Uncomfortably.

“Rodolfo Ortiz Teope! Why did you allow this? You are the President. Where was the discipline? Where was the leadership?”

I was stunned. I was just a child. But now, through the lens of age and experience, I understand why she looked at me that way.

Leadership is not only about what you do.

Leadership is about what you tolerate.

And as I witness the unfolding tragedy of the flood control scandal today—a scandal of staggering magnitude and heartbreaking consequences—I realize that the same childhood lesson echoes in the very foundations of our political system.

Just like that unruly classmate, the corrupt officials who stole billions in flood control funds are guilty. But they are not the only ones at fault.

The deeper betrayal lies with the political parties—the supposed class officers of our democracy—that refused to discipline them.

The Flood Control Scandal: Not Just Corruption, but a National Betrayal

I have spent years studying governance, teaching public safety professionals, advising government leaders, and analyzing political behavior. But the flood control scandal is one of the most painful national wounds I’ve ever seen.

This was not ordinary corruption.

It was engineered plunder, executed with bureaucratic precision and protected by political complicity.

Billions were siphoned through manipulated budget insertions, ghost projects, inflated contracts, and coordinated influence networks. This was not one rogue official. This was a political ecosystem of greed.

And many of its architects?

Senators.

Congressmen.

Influential political actors.

Some already face cases.

Some await indictment.

Some will inevitably be imprisoned.

But the more painful truth is this:

They stole because they were allowed to steal.

Just like the noisy classmate who misbehaved because the “officers” refused to act, these legislators plundered because their political parties chose silence over discipline.

In political science, Sartori (1976) notes that party discipline is the “internal immune system” of a political structure. When it fails, the body becomes defenseless against corruption.

That is precisely what happened. 

Political parties permitted their members to abuse the system without fear of consequences. They valued numbers over integrity, loyalty over morality, and power over patriotism.

Their silence built the runway from which corruption took flight.

 

Corruption as Human Suffering

We often analyze corruption in technical terms—budgets, appropriations, contracts. But corruption in flood control is a tragedy with human faces.

Every diverted peso is a mother standing on her rooftop, praying the waters stop rising.

Every kickback is a child wading through waist-deep water just to reach school.

Every manipulated allocation is a father watching his small business drown in brown floodwater.

Hellman, Jones, and Kaufmann (2000) call this state capture: when public institutions serve private greed instead of public good.

But for the Filipino people, it is simply betrayal.

It is betrayal when a Senator turns flood control into an ATM machine.

It is betrayal when a Congressman inflates budgets while families lose their homes.

It is betrayal when political parties pretend they don’t see.

Corruption is not just the theft of money.

It is the theft of safety, dignity, and hope.

 

NPC’s Expulsion of Alice Guo: A Rare Moment of Courage

This is why the decision of the National People’s Coalition (NPC) to expel Alice Guo struck me deeply.

For the first time in years, a political party acted like my Grade 1 class officers were supposed to act. They looked at a member whose actions endangered credibility, loyalty, and national security—and said:

“Your name goes on the board.

You must go.”

In academic terms, Diamond and Gunther (2001) call this defensive institutionalization—a party choosing to preserve its moral identity by expelling those who compromise it.

Most political parties would have protected her.

NPC did not.

And in doing so, NPC revealed how glaringly cowardly other parties have been. 

Parties that protect Senators and Representatives involved in the flood control racket are not political institutions.

They are shelters for syndicates.

NPC’s decision was a reminder that political parties can act with dignity—if they want to.

The Reckoning Will Not Spare the Parties

The time of reckoning is near.

And it will be swift.

Names will be indicted.

Senators will be arrested.

Congressmen will be jailed.

Contractors will confess.

Networks will collapse.

 

But the reckoning will not end with individuals.

It will fall upon the political parties that enabled them.

As Schedler (1999) notes, democracies do not collapse under the weight of corruption alone—they collapse when institutions refuse to self-correct.

Political parties in the Philippines have refused to self-correct for far too long.

NPC took one brave step.

Others must follow—or be remembered as accomplices.

Purge or Perish: The Hard Truth

Just as my Grade 1 teacher held me accountable for the noise I allowed, the Filipino people will hold political parties accountable for the corruption they tolerated.

A political party that protects a corrupt Senator is not a political institution—it is a cartel.

A party that shelters a corrupt Congressman is not a force for democracy—it is a criminal syndicate with a logo.

When a political party’s discipline dies, corruption does not merely reign.

It becomes culture.

It becomes generational.

It becomes the flood that destroys our future.

And unless political parties choose courage over convenience—

unless they write the names on the board and expel the corrupt—

the next floods that drown us will not be caused by typhoons,

but by our own political cowardice.

 

References

 

• Diamond, L., & Gunther, R. (2001). Political parties and democracy. Johns Hopkins University Press.
• Hellman, J. S., Jones, G., & Kaufmann, D. (2000). Seize the state, seize the day: State capture, corruption, and influence in transition. World Bank Policy Research Working Paper No. 2444.
• Johnston, M. (2005). Syndromes of corruption: Wealth, power, and democracy. Cambridge University Press.
• Sartori, G. (1976). Parties and party systems: A framework for analysis. Cambridge University Press.
• Schedler, A. (1999). Conceptualizing accountability. In A. Schedler, L. Diamond, & M. F. Plattner (Eds.), The self-restraining state: Power and accountability in new democracies (pp. 13–28). Lynne Rienner Publishers.

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 *About the author:

Dr. Rodolfo “John” Ortiz Teope is a distinguished Filipino academic, public intellectual, and advocate for civic education and public safety, whose work spans local academies and international security circles. With a career rooted in teaching, research, policy, and public engagement, he bridges theory and practice by making meaningful contributions to academic discourse, civic education, and public policy. Dr. Teope is widely respected for his critical scholarship in education, management, economics, doctrine development, and public safety; his grassroots involvement in government and non-government organizations; his influential media presence promoting democratic values and civic consciousness; and his ethical leadership grounded in Filipino nationalism and public service. As a true public intellectual, he exemplifies how research, advocacy, governance, and education can work together in pursuit of the nation’s moral and civic mission.

VIEWS: 1.11M

Political Self-Protection Through Narrative Inflation: The Case of Zaldy Co

*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD, DM

The study of political behavior often feels distant until one recalls how its earliest patterns surface long before academic language develops to describe them. I first encountered the anatomy of false accusation, reputational distortion, and guilt displacement not in a university lecture, but as a high school student in an exclusive school for boys pressured into accepting blame for something I hardly touched. A Playboy magazine had circulated among a group of curious lustful creatures, passed eagerly from hand to hand in that reckless curiosity characteristic of teenagers. My involvement amounted to a brief, hesitant glance from a distance. Yet when the risk of punishment emerged, one of the boys—ironically the most engaged participant—rushed to “report” the incident to save himself. He framed himself as morally upright and pointed to me as a primary culprit simply because I was quiet, unassertive, and willing to sacrifice.

What happened that day became a personal primer in the political psychology of preemptive self-exoneration, a behavior in which individuals attempt to absolve themselves by controlling the narrative before facts can emerge. That high school moment, painful as it was, has returned to me with unsettling clarity as I watch the flood control scandal, where Zaldy Co has positioned himself as one of its loudest accusers. What I once witnessed in a school disciplinary case now unfolds on a national stage supported by media, institutions, and shifting political alliances.

Political psychology helps explain why Co has embraced the role of outraged truth-teller despite being closely connected to the systems under scrutiny. Goffman’s (1959) theory of impression management is instructive: when reputational stakes are high, individuals construct strategic public identities to mitigate potential damage. Co’s visible and repeated denunciations of corruption constitute a protective performance, enabling him to frame himself as a reformist figure rather than someone who benefited from the machinery that enabled the alleged anomalies.

This behavior aligns with McGraw’s (1990) findings on blame avoidance, which demonstrate that political actors actively preempt negative outcomes by shifting responsibility before blame is assigned. In high-stakes scandals, the pressure to engage in blame avoidance rises, prompting actors to deflect responsibility toward institutions, processes, or other individuals. Hood (2011) similarly argues that public officials under threat employ strategies of denial and narrative deflection to preserve legitimacy even when facing mounting evidence.

The act of enabling or encouraging the implication of the President reflects a more sophisticated political maneuver documented in crisis governance literature. Boin, ’t Hart, Stern, and Sundelius (2017) explain how actors engage in crisis exploitation, using chaotic events to reshape political power structures and public perception. When a political figure like Co senses institutional vulnerability, widening the crisis becomes a calculated means of self-preservation. By elevating the scandal to the level of the presidency, he dissolves any clear line of culpability and embeds himself within a broader narrative of systemic failure.

This approach resonates with Farazmand’s (2003) argument that manufactured instability allows political entrepreneurs to benefit from institutional confusion. Chaos creates opportunities for actors to rebrand themselves as truth-tellers, reformers, or indispensable voices. By expanding the scandal upward, Co transforms himself from a possible subject of investigation into an essential figure in a national drama.

Political communication theory adds further clarity. McCombs and Shaw’s (1972) agenda-setting research explains that repeated public statements shape which issues the public sees as important, while framing theory shapes how the audience interprets events. Co’s persistent framing of the scandal shifts public focus away from congressional oversight and toward executive responsibility. Once the President becomes symbolically implicated, the scandal is no longer an administrative issue—it becomes a question of national leadership, which conveniently obscures Co’s own proximity to the alleged irregularities.

Girard’s (1986) concept of scapegoat dynamics also helps interpret this behavior. Expanding blame to the highest office symbolically shifts guilt from individuals to institutions. The larger the target, the more diffused the moral contamination becomes, allowing political figures like Co to present themselves as corrective forces rather than contributors to wrongdoing.

Scholars of political transitions note that when actors anticipate potential changes in leadership, they engage in “pre-transition positioning,” crafting narratives to secure their future roles under a new administration (O’Donnell & Schmitter, 1986). In the volatile Philippine political environment, Co’s behavior reflects this anticipation. If public discontent weakens the presidency, he can later claim that he “warned the nation early,” allowing him to recast himself not as a villain but as a patriot. Should leadership change, he could be rewarded for his perceived courage; should the administration survive, he can frame his actions as principled oversight.

This aligns directly with Meier’s (2019) concept of strategic self-exoneration, where actors reveal selective truths or amplify controversies not for moral reasons but to mitigate personal jeopardy and restructure political narratives. By allowing the scandal to engulf even the presidency, Co ensures that any accountability process becomes diffuse, contested, and subject to political theatrics rather than rigorous investigation.

Beyond theory, however, lies the human cost. Many honest public servants—engineers, technical personnel, regional directors—now find themselves caught in a narrative they did not create. Their reputations and families suffer because someone more powerful seeks protection through spectacle. Their silence does not reflect guilt but paralysis, the same paralysis I felt years ago as a high school student being unjustly accused.

The flood control scandal is not only a governance issue—it is a human story about how far individuals will go to rewrite their role from villain to hero, even if it means destabilizing institutions and hurting people who never sought to be part of the spectacle.

And so, I return to that moment in high school—not as nostalgia but as a warning. A louder lie once drowned out my truth, and today, the nation stands on that same fragile edge. In a time when guilt often speaks first and truth is forced to whisper, the real test before us is simple yet profound: will we allow the loudest voices to define our future, or will we finally choose to defend the truth that has waited far too long to be heard?

References

• Boin, A., ’t Hart, P., Stern, E., & Sundelius, B. (2017). The politics of crisis management: Public leadership under pressure. Cambridge University Press.
• Farazmand, A. (2003). Chaos and transformation theories: A theoretical analysis with implications for organization theory and public management. Public Organization Review, 3(4), 339–372.
• Girard, R. (1986). The scapegoat. Johns Hopkins University Press.
• Goffman, E. (1959). The presentation of self in everyday life. Doubleday.
• Hood, C. (2011). The blame game: Spin, bureaucracy, and self-preservation in government. Princeton University Press.
• McCombs, M., & Shaw, D. (1972). The agenda-setting function of mass media. Public Opinion Quarterly, 36(2), 176–187.
• McGraw, K. M. (1990). Avoiding blame: An experimental investigation of political excuses and justifications. American Political Science Review, 84(4), 1133–1157.
• Meier, K. (2019). Strategic disclosure and the politics of self-preservation. Journal of Public Administration Research and Theory, 29(3), 403–417.
• O’Donnell, G., & Schmitter, P. (1986). Transitions from authoritarian rule: Tentative conclusions about uncertain democracies. Johns Hopkins University Press.

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 *About the author:

Dr. Rodolfo “John” Ortiz Teope is a distinguished Filipino academic, public intellectual, and advocate for civic education and public safety, whose work spans local academies and international security circles. With a career rooted in teaching, research, policy, and public engagement, he bridges theory and practice by making meaningful contributions to academic discourse, civic education, and public policy. Dr. Teope is widely respected for his critical scholarship in education, management, economics, doctrine development, and public safety; his grassroots involvement in government and non-government organizations; his influential media presence promoting democratic values and civic consciousness; and his ethical leadership grounded in Filipino nationalism and public service. As a true public intellectual, he exemplifies how research, advocacy, governance, and education can work together in pursuit of the nation’s moral and civic mission.

VIEWS: 1.25M

A Chance for Tamayo and Magalong: The Pendulum of Philippine Politics and the Prospect of 2028

*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD

Philippine politics has always moved like a pendulum, swinging back and forth in response to the failures and excesses of those in power. If massive corruption continues to dominate our national narrative until 2027, then by 2028 it is almost certain that the political mood will shift toward a leader who embodies anti-corruption and good governance. This is the pattern we have seen repeatedly in our history. After the authoritarian rule of Marcos Sr., the people turned to Cory Aquino, who symbolized honesty and democracy. After the corruption scandals of Joseph Estrada, Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo stepped in as a stabilizer. When Arroyo herself was tainted by controversy, Noynoy Aquino rose to power with the rallying cry, “Kung walangcorrupt, walang mahirap.” Each leadership choice was less about ideology and more about reaction—the people seeking the opposite of what had failed them before.

If the flood control scam, questionable deals, and misuse of public funds continue to define this administration’s legacy, the next election will be shaped by outrage and the longing for integrity. It is in this political atmosphere that someone like Baguio City Mayor Benjie Magalong could emerge as a natural beneficiary of the people’s frustration. Magalong has consistently built a reputation as a reformist leader, unafraid to challenge entrenched interests. As a police general, he is best remembered for his courage in leading the Mamasapano Board of Inquiry in 2015, where he spoke truth to power and revealed uncomfortable facts about command responsibility. That act of integrity cost him politically within the police hierarchy, but it won him the respect of many Filipinos who saw in him a rare official who put truth above careerism. As mayor of Baguio, he has continued to uphold transparency, accountability, and discipline, making good governance more than just a slogan.

But Magalong may not be alone in this reformist lane. Gov. Reynaldo Tamayo Jr. of South Cotabato could emerge as a dark horse in 2028. Unlike the traditional political heavyweights, Tamayo has quietly built his image as a pragmatic provincial leader who delivers results without the noise of national theatrics. His leadership has now expanded beyond his province: he was reelected as President of the League of Provinces of the Philippines (LPP) and continues to serve as Chairman of the Union of Local Authorities of the Philippines (ULAP), positions that grant him both national visibility and influence among governors, mayors, and local officials across the country. Coupled with his role as national president of the Partido Federal ng Pilipinas, Tamayo now sits at the center of a powerful network of local executives. Add to this his track record in South Cotabato, particularly his free education initiatives, and he presents himself as a credible grassroots-oriented alternative. His relatively quiet demeanor compared to louder national figures could become his strength, especially if the electorate grows weary of traditional dynastic personalities.

If the country enters 2028 drowning in scandals and disillusionment, candidates like Magalong and Tamayo represent a different kind of leadership—grounded in discipline, honesty, and public service rather than entrenched political privilege. They may not have the machinery of dynasties, but they carry something potentially more powerful: credibility. That credibility could resonate strongly with an electorate tired of recycled names and promises.

Still, the bigger challenge lies not in the emergence of leaders, but in the maturity of the electorate. The pendulum will swing, yes—but where it lands will depend on the Filipino people’s ability to distinguish between genuine reformers and populists who only wear the mask of integrity. Our nation has been betrayed before by leaders who promised change but delivered the same politics of self-interest. If Filipinos truly want 2028 to be a turning point, we must go beyond slogans and personalities. We must demand a government that acts, not just talks; that delivers reforms, not just rhetoric.

In the end, the possibility of a Magalong or a Tamayo candidacy is not simply about two men’s leadership—it is about whether the Filipino people are finally ready to reward honesty and competence with the highest office of the land. If corruption continues unchecked, the demand for integrity will define the next elections. And perhaps, just perhaps, the pendulum will swing in favor of true reform.

  ____________

 *About the author:

Dr. Rodolfo “John” Ortiz Teope is a distinguished Filipino academic, public intellectual, and advocate for civic education and public safety, whose work spans local academies and international security circles. With a career rooted in teaching, research, policy, and public engagement, he bridges theory and practice by making meaningful contributions to academic discourse, civic education, and public policy. Dr. Teope is widely respected for his critical scholarship in education, management, economics, doctrine development, and public safety; his grassroots involvement in government and non-government organizations; his influential media presence promoting democratic values and civic consciousness; and his ethical leadership grounded in Filipino nationalism and public service. As a true public intellectual, he exemplifies how research, advocacy, governance, and education can work together in pursuit of the nation’s moral and civic mission.

VIEWS: 125K

Watching the Forgery Unfold in the Senate: A Nation Held Hostage

 *Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD

I was sitting in my home office room while my daughter Juliana Rizalhea was busy in her Taekwondo training on the floor stretching her legs, the television humming in the background, when the spectacle began. It was supposed to be a hearing—a solemn exercise of truth and accountability. But as I watched the cameras zoom in on the so-called witness, clutching notarized statements like weapons, I felt the air change. Something was wrong. The words rolling off his tongue did not carry the weight of honesty; they carried the stench of fabrication.

I leaned closer to the screen, half in disbelief, half in anger. Here it was again—the old trick of Philippine politics. Falsified documents paraded as gospel truth, testimonies rehearsed in backrooms now dressed up as revelations under oath. It wasn’t the pursuit of justice I was seeing; it was a cheap play, staged for cameras, orchestrated for political ends.

And this is what pains me most: every Filipino wants the true mastermind of the flood control scandal to be jailed. We all want accountability for the billions stolen and the lives destroyed by ghost projects and substandard works. But not like this—not through fake evidence and planted witnesses. For to use forgery in the name of justice is to mock justice itself. It does not jail the guilty; it frees them. It does not expose the truth; it buries it beneath layers of deceit.

As the session dragged on, I could not help but ask myself: how many times have we seen this before? How many investigations have been poisoned by forged papers, notarized lies, and the prostitution of truth? How many institutions have been dragged down, not by evidence, but by the fabrication of it?

And the ones who preside over these lies—they wear barong, they carry titles, they speak the language of law. Yet what they truly are, I realized, are forgers. Not legislators, not truth-seekers, but forgers in barong. They manufacture deceit the way others draft bills, and they do it with the confidence of men who know they will get away with it.

Sitting there, I felt the weight of betrayal. Our democracy was not being defended; it was being defiled, live on national television. What struck me most was not only the brazenness of the forgery, but the silence in the room—the nods, the complicit stares, the absence of outrage. Lies were being legitimized by the very people sworn to protect the truth.

This is the rot that has taken root in our politics. It is not just about corruption anymore; it is about the normalization of deceit. A forged paper today, a falsified witness tomorrow—until, one day, truth itself becomes irrelevant. And when that day comes, what will be left of our democracy?

As the hearing ended, I switched off the television. But the image of that witness, clutching his notarized lies, stayed with me. It was not just a scene from the Senate floor—it was a mirror held up to our nation. A reminder that unless we demand accountability, unless we spit out the forgers who rot in their barongs, we will continue to be held hostage by lies.

Yes, we want the guilty jailed. But we want them jailed through truth—not through fabrications. Only then can justice be real. Only then can democracy survive.

   ____________

 *About the author:

Dr. Rodolfo “John” Ortiz Teope is a distinguished Filipino academic, public intellectual, and advocate for civic education and public safety, whose work spans local academies and international security circles. With a career rooted in teaching, research, policy, and public engagement, he bridges theory and practice by making meaningful contributions to academic discourse, civic education, and public policy. Dr. Teope is widely respected for his critical scholarship in education, management, economics, doctrine development, and public safety; his grassroots involvement in government and non-government organizations; his influential media presence promoting democratic values and civic consciousness; and his ethical leadership grounded in Filipino nationalism and public service. As a true public intellectual, he exemplifies how research, advocacy, governance, and education can work together in pursuit of the nation’s moral and civic mission.

VIEWS: 201K