The Urgent Need for an Independent Body to Investigate the Flood Control Scam

*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD

I have been watching the Senate Blue Ribbon hearings on the flood control scam, and to be honest, every time I do, my heart sinks. What should have been a solemn search for the truth has become a circus of drama—Senators humiliating witnesses, hurling insults at their colleagues, and parading their legal knowledge as if the hearings were a courtroom for showmanship, not a chamber for truth. It is painful to see our leaders treat such a serious matter as if it were entertainment.

This is not a game. We are talking about billions of pesos—money that could have built walls to protect families from floods, money that could have spared mothers from carrying their children through waist-deep waters, money that could have saved lives. Instead, this money may have been stolen, pocketed, shared among politicians and their allies. And what we are given now is not justice, not truth, but theater.

What troubles me most is how the focus has shifted. Contractors are being painted as the villains, as if they alone could engineer this scam. But we know better. Contractors cannot move without signatures from those in power. No project worth billions are awarded without the blessing of Senators, Congressmen, and government officials. To pretend otherwise is to blindfold the people while the real masterminds laugh behind closed doors. 

That is why I believe the President must listen to SenatorTito Sotto, who has called for an independent fact-finding body. A body composed not of politicians hungry for soundbites, but of individuals with proven integrity—men and women who cannot be bought, who carry reputations that inspire trust, who will not tremble before the powerful. Such a body can investigate without fear, without drama, and without the chains of politics.

But this body must not be endless. It must be given a definite period of time to complete its work so that cases can be immediately filed with the Ombudsman. Otherwise, it risks becoming just another political performance. We have seen it too many times: “investigations in aid of legislation” that drag on without deadlines, wasting energy and resources. These hearings become nothing more than investigation gymnastics—with all the somersaults, twists, and falls, but never a finish line. The Filipino people cannot afford another spectacle that ends in nothing.

Beyond this, the President must act in his own capacity as the leader of this nation. He must have the courage to axe or replace people in his Cabinet who, time and again, have been the subject of whispers in the media, the talk of the streets, even the gossip in the barbershops. These so-called “negative energies” weaken his administration from within. A true leader does not allow rotten wood to remain in the foundation of his house.

As for Congress and the Senate—these independent branches of government know, among themselves, who are involved. They must make a noble act, for the sake of the Motherland, to restructure their leadership and cleanse their ranks. Only then can the Filipino people begin to give back their trust to institutions that have long been tainted by corruption and betrayal.

I say this not just as an observer but as a Filipino who feels the same anger many of you feel. I see the betrayal, I feel the disappointment, and I understand the rage that builds in our hearts. Each day this scandal is left unresolved, our patience runs thinner. And when people have had enough, history tells us they do not stay quiet. They lash out. They protest. They revolt. The danger is that anger may explode against the wrong targets—the small players—while the real giants of corruption slip away once more.

This is why action is urgent. The flood control scam is not simply about missing funds. It is about the collapse of trust. And without trust, what do we have left? Only anger. Only despair.

The President has a choice. He can let this scandal become another chapter in the endless book of corruption, or he can rise above politics and stand with the people. Creating an independent body with a clear mandate and strict deadline is not just a legal step—it is a moral stand. It tells us that the fight against corruption is real, that justice is possible, that not even the most powerful are untouchable.

I watched those hearings, and I felt ashamed of the spectacle. But I also felt a flicker of hope—that perhaps this could be the turning point. The Filipino people deserve more than drama. We deserve truth. We deserve leaders who will act with dignity, not theatrics.

This is not about politics anymore. This is about the soul of our nation. And it is time for the President, Congress, and the Senate to prove, once and for all, that governance is not about spectacle, but about service; not about power, but about justice.

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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.

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Cheeze Insertion at Forthweed: A Playful Creation of a Pigmented Imagination Beyond Politics

 By: Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope

Writing about politics is sometimes toxic. Expressing ourselves too much on the subject can create unnecessary enemies, so maybe I will change my focus for the meantime. Perhaps Forthweed can be a good topic. Mix it with Cheeze and make a Round Robin exercise out of it, and suddenly it becomes something playful, something that can be archived again and forgotten. It is a way of finding refuge, a lighter escape from the daily heaviness of political noise.

Still, even in playful escapes, the shadows of politics sneak in. Words like insertion, which in another world would only mean something technical or mundane, now carry double meanings—naughty, sometimes illegal, always whispered with suspicion. Here in Forthweed, insertion becomes a key motif. It is the art of slipping humor into chaos, the subtle threading of ideas into stories, the gentle trick of placing a character exactly where the absurdity matters most. We laugh at it, we pause at it, we breathe through it—because in this kingdom, insertion is survival.

And then come the characters—oh, the characters that populate our imagination. There is Sara, the poor princess, weighed down by trials, who dreams of slaying the mischievous mythical creature Tambaloslos, whose laugh echoes through every hall. She is joined by Super Dante with his Magical Blue Ribbon, who guides the weak, shields the just, and improvises lessons for those who stumble—most notably Robin without his master Batman, the ever-confused sidekick who searches for courage in a stage too large for him. Robin, silent and vulnerable, embodies what happens when guidance is absent; yet through each stumble, he learns resilience, a lesson subtle as the insertion of hope between moments of fear.

Not far behind are the Royal Brother and Sister of the House of Pool, who watch over the scene with elegance and quiet judgment. They observe as Bato the aspiring comedian turns hearings into stand-up routines, as Ping the Enforcer stomps in with a dramatic flair, and as Win, who always sides with the winning side, adapts loyalties like a flag shifting with the wind. Joel the Dreamer drifts in and out, conjuring impossible visions, while Lito the Silencer glides silently, controlling the space between chaos and order.

Family drama thickens the air. The Jerry Springer wannabe full-blooded brothers thrive on spectacle, turning debates into near-brawls that leave echoes of shouts lingering in every corner. By contrast, the Half Brothers quarrel in whispers, simmering quietly, never fully resolved, their tension like a slow-burning fire. Meanwhile, Riza the Internet Explorer buffers endlessly, forever searching, seldom arriving, trapped by the endless rotations of her own curiosity.

Chaos peaks with Migz the Boom Tarat Tarat guy, who detonates surprise sound effects and eruptions at every opportunity, transforming tense silences into unexpected hilarity. His presence magnifies Titosen’s “Boom Tarat Tarat!”, creating a symphony of controlled pandemonium. Every insertion of laughter, pause, or comic relief becomes more vivid when Migz struts across the scene, a walking, shouting, musical exclamation mark of absurdity.

Meanwhile, Kiko the Farmer tills words as if they were soil, planting seeds of wisdom in an otherwise chaotic field. Bam the Teacher’s Pet clutches his notebook, determined that diligence alone will earn him recognition. Pia moves with elegance, precise and deliberate, while Alan, the 10,000 Peso Man, waves his bills with the confidence of someone who believes money can fix all problems. Grace drifts like a gentle melody, Malasakit offers care like a comforting spell, and Lito the Silencer ensures that even in bursts of pandemonium, order lurks between the insertions of chaos.

Together, these figures weave a kingdom both absurd and familiar. Robin without his master Batman watches, sometimes lost, sometimes inspired, learning from the antics around him. Super Dante trains him with patience, showing that guidance can come even from unexpected places. Meanwhile, Sara the Poor Princess and her allies prepare to face Tambaloslos, reminding everyone that courage is learned in chaos. Migz and Titosen punctuate the narrative with eruptions and surprises, while Lito the Silencer subtly enforces order, creating rhythm and balance. Each character—dreamer, enforcer, comedian, farmer, sidekick, silencer, or boomer—teaches resilience, humor, and hope in a world that often feels absurdly heavy.

Even impeachment drifts in like a dark cloud, a reminder that serious matters hover over all their antics. Yet in the play of Forthweed and Cheeze, every character—Robin, Sara, Super Dante, Bato, Ping, Win, Joel, Kiko, Bam, Pia, Alan, Grace, Malasakit, Titosen, Lito, Migz, the Half Brothers, the full-blooded Jerry Springer wannabes, Riza, and the Royal Brother and Sister of the House of Pool—becomes a vital piece of the story. Each insertion, whether comedic, dramatic, or instructive, binds the kingdom together, teaching that survival, laughter, and wisdom can coexist even in the most absurd chaos.

Because in the end, laughter is not just an escape—it is a lifeline. Insertion, carefully crafted, is the secret passage that allows imagination to breathe, chaos to become art, and the weary to find hope. And in this kingdom of Forthweed and Cheeze, survival itself is already half a victory, with Robin learning courage, Sara learning strength, Migz amplifying joy, and every character discovering the power of subtle influence in a world that rarely makes sense.

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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.