Since last week, scores of angry but well-meaning Filipino cyber vigilantes have been rummaging through social media, surveilling, rooting out, and publicly shaming luxuriating “influencers” believed to have benefited from the flood control thievery.

In defense, most of the definitely humiliated young “influencers” —mockingly catcalled “nepo babies” or “Disney princes and princesses” — logged off.

Unsurprisingly, there were no overt displays of sympathy for these privileged sons and daughters of avaricious contractors and corrupt politicians colluding in flood control scams.

In truth, many felt right, even cathartic, about all the public shaming going on, known as online social policing.

But what was surprising was these cyber vigilantes weren’t only the digitally inclined Gen Z cohorts and those younger. Cheerily connecting with their campaign and broadcasting their own versions of activist public shaming were the creaky boomers.

As a result, online Filipinos demonstrably revealed a rare coming together of generations, participating in collective shaming in a way that wasn’t possible before.

The rare concerted social media campaign, of course, was definitely an offshoot of the brimming collective outrage over the flood control scandal.

It could be concluded that the collective anger became a unifying and effective force for systemic change — which made the public shaming necessary.

Before further explaining that conclusion, a few words about public shaming, which in massive doses could become bullying.

Right off the bat, I subscribe to the argument that public shaming isn’t all a bad thing, even if shaming does involve callous emotions like schadenfreude, intellectual entitlement, and mob mentality.

Public shaming, once properly used and meant only as a first step towards serious systemic reforms, can be used as an effective tool for accountability in our fragile democracy.

This especially in light of public shaming’s particular political definition as a form of social sanctioning, meaning people holding each other responsible for clearly violating social norms, not laws.

In the case of the humiliated social media “influencers,” it is clear they weren’t pilloried for legal infractions.

Instead, they were being held “accountable” for their brazen displays of lavish lifestyles suspiciously funded by the country’s treasury, at a time when many were literally drowning in floods.

Many saw such behavior as a very public sin, to the extent some saw the shopaholic “influencers” as compulsive, callous exhibitionists who deserved public censure.

Our infamous “influencers,” in short, violated one of our society’s unstated moral codes — of what is acceptable and non-acceptable public behavior.

At the same time, the shaming wasn’t just to exact social justice on “influencers,” but for our present state of political affairs.

In fact, the public shaming campaign implies a serious indictment of our formal political authorities, the ones that could hold the shamed accountable but who are suspiciously reluctant to do anything.

The current turn towards public shaming, in short, means Filipinos are plainly sick and tired of the errant political establishment and its embrace of blatant corruption and corrupt practices.