“Mahiya naman kayo.” (Shame on you!)
The words from the mouth of the President himself hang in the air, a public scolding for those who made a living from the destruction of lives, property, and communities. But will this verbal slap on the wrist be enough? Is “shame on you” the final verdict for those who built substandard flood control projects, who pocketed billions, and who left the nation to drown in their deceit?
In a turn of events that absolutely no one saw coming (except maybe everyone who has ever experienced a rainy season in this country), billions of pesos poured into anti-flood infrastructure projects have apparently decided they’d rather be decorative, or perhaps abstract art installations, than actually, you know, prevent floods. The Department of Public Works and Highway (DPWH), an agency whose name should probably be changed to the Department of Public Works and Highway Robbery, is now swimming in a scandal deeper than any of the supposedly protected areas.
Reports are surfacing faster than floodwaters during a typhoon, all pointing to the dazzling revelation that many of these multi-billion-peso endeavors are, to put it delicately, utter garbage. Substandard materials? Check. Questionable construction? Double-check. A distinct lack of actual flood control? You betcha.
Based on recent news reports, here are some specific locations where substandard anti-flooding projects were discovered, along with the actual observations made on these projects:
In Barangay Candating, Arayat, a P90-million flood control project designed to protect residents from the overflowing Pampanga River failed spectacularly.
- A significant portion of the structure’s sheet pile gave way after continuous rainfall, leading to severe flooding that worsened the situation.
- The project, which was supposed to be a permanent solution, collapsed less than a year after its completion.
- Local officials and residents blamed substandard construction and defective or incomplete materials, alleging that the sheet piles used were cut short of specifications to increase profits for the contractor.
Calumpit, Bulacan: This province has emerged as a central point of the scandal, with President Marcos personally inspecting two projects.
Calumpit River Protection Structure (Barangay Bulusan): Despite being marked as “completed” on official records, the project was found to be unfinished. The concrete used was described as “very thin and uneven,” and it had already collapsed in some sections. The President noted that the work was “clearly substandard” and that a crucial part of the contract—dredging and desiltation—was never carried out.
Flood Mitigation Structure (Barangay Frances): This project was also marked as completed in 2023. Upon inspection, the concrete was found to be thin and porous, crumbling easily when touched. The President noted that the materials used were “malabnaw” (watery) and that the concrete was not as thick as specified in the plans. A handwritten complaint from a resident claimed the dike was “weak” with “small steel bars” and that the cement mixture was severely lacking.
Negros Occidental: Several flood control projects in the province were found to be ineffective.
Bacolod City and Talisay City: In July, many projects built by a top contractor were themselves inundated after heavy rains. The flood control structures along the Mandalagan River in Bacolod City and the Matab-ang River in Talisay City were among those that failed, leaving the areas submerged.
Bongabong, Oriental Mindoro: Local officials inspected damaged portions of a flood control project, highlighting its substandard nature.
Iloilo: The local government suggested demolishing flood structures that worsened flooding in areas like Mohon, Arevalo, and Tagbak, Jaro, because they were not serving their purpose.
Marikina City: The Pasig-Marikina River Channel Improvement Project, a major flood mitigation project, was inspected amid the nationwide audit. While no specific substandard issues were cited in the reports, it was included in the government’s scrutiny of all major flood control works.
These observations, made by both high-ranking officials and local residents, point to a pattern of fraudulent practices, including the use of inferior materials, failure to complete work outlined in the contract, and falsified completion reports.
And because nothing screams “good governance” like a healthy dose of alleged corruption, whispers of collusion among the DPWH, our ever-so-honorable lawmakers, and the suspiciously well-funded contractors are now echoing through the very streets that were promised dry passage. It seems the only thing these entities managed to build effectively was a network of potential kickbacks and substandard concrete.
The irony, of course, is thicker than the mud now coating our homes and businesses. We were promised respite from the annual aquatic assaults, a shield against the relentless monsoons. Instead, what we got were expensive monuments to incompetence and greed, projects that seem specifically designed to fail at the most inconvenient times—like, say, during a flood.
The victims of this brazen heist are not merely numbers on a spreadsheet. They are the families who lost their homes, the small business owners whose livelihoods were washed away, the communities now isolated and struggling to recover. They are the ones who bear the true cost of this “shameful” enterprise.
We have seen this play out before. The outrage, the condemnations, the promises of swift and decisive action. Yet, time and again, the guilty seem to slip through the cracks, their ill-gotten gains safely tucked away, their reputations surprisingly intact.
The “axe” that is meant to fall on their necks often turns out to be a mere feather, a tickle of discomfort before they return to their comfortable lives, insulated from the very destruction they wrought.
Perhaps this time will be different. Perhaps the sheer scale of the betrayal, the audacity of profiting from the public’s peril, will finally force a reckoning. But until we see actual arrests, until we see assets frozen and contracts revoked, until we see these “shameful” individuals standing in a courtroom instead of a comfortable office, the President’s words will remain just that—words, whispered into a deluge of deceit and despair. The real cost of public works, it seems, is not measured in pesos, but in the trust we’ve lost and the lives that have been destroyed.
We eagerly await the next chapter in this thrilling saga, perhaps involving underwater bridges or self-destructing dams, because at this point, nothing would really surprise us.