Will justice catch up with widespread corruption?

The recent flurry of corruption cases filed by the Independent Commission on Infrastructure (ICI), the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH), and other government agencies offers a familiar mix of hope and cynicism for the Filipino public. Dozens of complaints now implicate regional DPWH engineers, contractors and even legislators. On the surface, this crackdown signals a long-overdue reckoning. But given the country’s track record, Filipinos know better than to celebrate too soon.

The truth is, we’ve seen this before. The headlines grab public attention, public officials posture as anti-corruption crusaders, and then everything fades into the background noise of our politics. As cases pile up and the courts slow to a crawl, public interest will inevitably wane. And by the time this administration ends in 2028, many of those accused will likely walk free—not because they were innocent, but because they were well-connected.

The rot is not confined to the DPWH. Corruption has long been entrenched in institutions such as the Bureau of Internal Revenue, the Bureau of Customs, the Department of Education, and regulatory bodies like the Land Transportation Office (LTO) and the Land Transportation Franchising and Regulatory Board (LTFRB). The ecosystem of corruption is resilient because it is protected at every level—from under-the-table negotiations in procurement offices to price-tagged verdicts handed down by some members of the judiciary.

This is the core of the problem: we talk endlessly about corruption in public offices, but seldom confront the compromised justice system that allows these crimes to go unpunished. Judges are rarely investigated, much less convicted, for bribery. Without an independent and incorruptible judiciary, any anti-corruption drive is doomed to become a political performance rather than a genuine purge.

Other countries show us how differently this could play out. China, for example, may draw criticism for its draconian methods, but it makes a chilling example of corrupt officials. Executions and life sentences are not uncommon for public servants caught enriching themselves. In Singapore, the transformation was more institutional but no less uncompromising. One story that still circulates is of a mid-level official who accepted a free vacation from a supplier. When he returned, he was promptly dismissed. That kind of zero-tolerance enforcement, combined with strong institutions, helped Singapore shed its corruption-plagued past and become one of the cleanest governments in the world today.

Why can’t the Philippines do the same?

We share the same public outrage as Indonesia and Nepal—where corruption is an everyday grievance—but we often lack the political will and public follow-through to see reforms through. Worse, impunity is the norm. When lawmakers and officials are named in corruption cases, they deny, deflect, delay, and eventually dodge any real accountability. Many even emerge politically stronger, playing the victim card and weaponizing public short-term memory.

But it doesn’t have to stay this way. The Philippines is not condemned to be a footnote in the global corruption index. If Singapore could transform itself, there is still hope. But it requires far more than filing cases. It demands real, structural reform in our judicial system, airtight protection for whistleblowers, full transparency in procurement processes, and an electorate that no longer tolerates the normalization of graft.

Accountability must be relentless, not cyclical. Every corrupt official who walks free sends a message that the system can be gamed. But every official held accountable—even just one—can begin to tip the balance back in favor of justice.

The public must stay angry, stay alert, and demand that these cases do not end in silence. Otherwise, by 2028, we’ll be reading yet another editorial like this—naming different officials, but lamenting the same broken system.