Litmus test of Marcos administration

The recent exposé on massive corruption in flood control projects under the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH) has ignited national outrage — not because Filipinos are surprised, but because they are exhausted. The latest cases filed with the Office of the Ombudsman, specifically against officials from the DPWH’s Bulacan regional office and their favored contractors, are merely confirmation of what many have long suspected: corruption has not just survived within government infrastructure projects, it has thrived — despite reforms, despite oversight, and despite every administration’s promise to stop it.

The quick succession of events following the revelation is uncharacteristically swift for a bureaucracy known for dragging its feet. Over a hundred bank accounts linked to DPWH officials and contractors have been frozen. Names have been placed on immigration watch list Press briefings and soundbytes are being rolled out with urgency. The newly formed Independent Commission for Infrastructure (ICI) has wasted no time in establishing collaboration — though curiously only with the DPWH, and not with the Senate or House of Representatives.

Yet this lightning-fast mobilization of the justice system has done little to quell public anger. Filipinos have seen this performance before. High-profile investigations, gripping media appearances, and legal fireworks often lead to either drawn-out court battles or quiet fade-outs. These efforts now feel less like a genuine crusade against graft, and more like damage control meant to restore a faltering image of government credibility.

Indeed, the speed of these actions cannot mask the slow rot that made them necessary in the first place. Government’s recently amended procurement law was supposed to plug the leaks — but clearly, entrenched corrupt practices have learned to flow around new barriers. Legislators, DPWH officials, and favored contractors have turned flood control projects into personal piggy banks. What has surfaced in Bulacan is only the tip of a deep and dirty iceberg. Parallel anomalies discovered in Oriental Mindoro and La Union suggest that the rot is nationwide.

This is where the ICI must prove itself. More than just keeping pace with public fury, it must surpass expectations — not in showmanship, but in substance. The legacy of former Senator Ping Lacson’s investigative work serves as a high standard: fast, fearless and focused. Anything less from the ICI, and it risks becoming another toothless committee meant to pacify, not prosecute.

But even if the culprits are unmasked and jailed, another problem looms: what becomes of the unfinished projects? How can the government complete these critical flood control works without sinking even more taxpayer money into the same corrupt cycle? Billions have already been pocketed. Recovering these funds seems impossible. Allocating new budgets invites further risk. The Marcos administration faces a dilemma that goes beyond the courts — how to deliver infrastructure without rewarding those who betrayed public trust.

Ultimately, this is the litmus test not just for the ICI, but for President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. himself. Will this administration treat this scandal as a chance to truly uproot corruption? Or will it stop at surface-level reforms meant to stabilize approval ratings and international perceptions? Early signs suggest the latter. The urgency feels more aligned with political damage control than a genuine crusade against corruption.

Public frustration is teetering on the edge. The memory of violent protests in Indonesia and Nepal, triggered by similar government failures, is no longer far-fetched. The people are watching — and waiting — for proof that this administration is not just another in a long line of enablers.

This isn’t just about justice. This is about survival — of institutions, of trust, and of governance itself.