The brazen corruption surrounding flood control and infrastructure projects is like acid poured on the nation’s wounds. It lays bare how government officials squander hard-earned taxes for personal gain while showing no regard for the people’s welfare. They put millions of Filipinos and their livelihoods in peril to floods while laughing all the way to the bank.
Yet, rather than wielding the full force of the presidency to hold the guilty to account and plug the loopholes in the system, President Marcos has met the scandal with a misplaced reliance on a toothless commission – the Independent Commission on Infrastructure (ICI).
Weak leadership
The Filipino people would have wanted the President to match its rage (which he professed to share) with decisive actions. These were the steps expected of him:
First, immediately suspend persons of interest – not just contractors and middle-rank DPWH executives, but legislators as well. Any official under credible suspicion should have been relieved of duty pending investigation, not protected by political shields.
Second, the ombudsman and DOJ should have been strengthened and granted full operational autonomy to pursue cases without political interference.
Third, the assets of all persons of interest should have been frozen to prevent laundering or concealment, alongside the swift issuance of hold-departure orders.
Fourth, the President should have directed that hearings of the ombudsman and DOJ be made public, broadcast live and completed within a fixed timeframe.
Fifth, Congress should have been pressed to expedite the enactment of structural reforms (which I outlined last week) to ensure that institutional plunder never happens again.
This is not what we got. From the outset, President Marcos’ response to the scandal has been marked more by emotion than action. Shedding tears on camera may have struck a chord with some, but it revealed a deeper problem – a leader who confuses symbolic grief with decisive governance. Crying over corruption does not dismantle the machinery that enables it nor does it hold the perpetrators to account.
Rather than immediately suspending implicated officials, freezing assets, imposing hold-departure orders and empowering state prosecutors to pursue cases swiftly, the President chose a timid middle ground – the creation of the ICI.
Granted, the ICI can play a role in investigation, but the snail’s pace of its investigations will allow plunderers to cover their tracks and conceal their ill-gotten wealth. It allows the guilty to build their defenses around legalese. It grants corrupt officials the time to intimidate whistleblowers and manipulate documentation. Worse, by relying on hearings and endless ‘fact-finding’ meetings, the ICI’s final report could arrive in months – if not years – way after public anger has waned. This is the classic formula of inaction disguised as accountability.
A toothless ICI, lacking credibility
The ICI may issue subpoenas and recommend suspensions, but beyond that, it has no bite. It has no power to prosecute, arrest or hold anyone in contempt. It can request bank records and testimonies – but cannot compel compliance when the powerful refuse. Instead, it must rely on the cooperation of the very officials it is supposed to investigate. This is not a commission of accountability, it is theater. The ICI projects the illusion of action while giving plunderers a window to escape culpability. In effect, it is an advisory body masquerading as an accountability mechanism.
Barely four weeks since its creation and the ICI has already lost credibility. The resignation of Mayor Benjie Magalong as special adviser and investigator was a serious blow. Magalong gave the ICI a semblance of independence and credibility. His decision to step down, citing doubts over the body’s mandate and independence, signals that the ICI is compromised.
Unfortunately, the personalities left at the helm do not inspire confidence. Chairman Andy Reyes, a retired Supreme Court justice, is viewed by critics as overly cautious and steeped in proceduralism – the kind that allows cases to languish for years. His deferential stance towards the accused makes us uncomfortable, as if he owes them a debt of gratitude.
Rodolfo Azurin Jr., the former PNP chief tapped as Magalong’s replacement, left the police service under a cloud of criticism over the 2022 shabu heist and alleged cover-up. His appointment raises questions about whether the ICI is meant to investigate wrongdoing or to protect political allies.
More disturbing is that the ICI has nothing to show even after four weeks in operation. No high level suspensions, no frozen contracts, no new whistleblower testimonies. In other words, no urgency. Meanwhile, those implicated were given precious weeks to conceal evidence, launder money and tighten political defenses.
The very design of the ICI reveals weakness on the President’s part. Instead of actually being in control, he has effectively outsourced the fight against corruption to a commission ill-equipped to handle entrenched interests.
And by allowing the ICI to take the lead, Marcos positions himself as someone ‘waiting for findings,’ thereby avoiding personal accountability. The ICI serves as a convenient shield. This is not the kind of leadership we need, nor deserve, at this time.
Government is failing us again. Now the burden now falls on the public. Civil society, investigative journalists and watchdog groups must demand transparency at every stage of the investigation. Closed-door hearings, selective leaks or sanitized reports will only protect the guilty. We have seen this happen before.
The proceedings must be broadcasted live, documentary evidence must be made public and the timelines strictly adhered to. Only constant public pressure can prevent the ICI from becoming another shield for the powerful – a smokescreen that hides corruption instead of exposing it.
It’s not too late. Marcos can still course-correct. We hope he rises to the occasion – leading the investigation, restitution, prosecution and structural reforms with the iron hand this crisis demands.