Is the Philippines irreparably damaged?

In recent months, the nation has been engulfed in scandals that have cast a long shadow over the political landscape.

Rampant corruption has been revealed in flood control programs, leading to billions of pesos lost to “ghost” projects, substandard construction, and grotesquely inflated contracts.

Investigations have implicated lawmakers from both houses of Congress, government officials, and contractors, with estimates of over P1 trillion lost since 2023 alone.

This dismal situation has tainted institutions and left many Filipinos asking whether the country and its leadership are “irreparably damaged.”

Critics paint a bleak picture: one where President Ferdinand R. Marcos Jr. is now burdened by a tainted reputation while struggling to steer the nation toward stability, with an uncertain horizon beyond 2028.

The scandals have inflicted serious wounds on public trust. The anomalies that have surfaced are not isolated incidents but symbols of systemic rot.

The revelations undermine confidence in government accountability, the rule of law, and the administration’s capacity — or willingness — to police itself. Citizens feel betrayed, and many now fear that the country’s institutions have decayed beyond repair.

Internationally, the scandals have eroded the Philippines’ standing, potentially affecting foreign investments and diplomatic partnerships.

If entrenched corruption remains unaddressed, it may perpetuate weak governance, economic stagnation, and social unrest — God forbid Filipinos’ restiveness escalate beyond last September’s multisectoral “Trillion Peso March,” or the next rally set for 30 November.

Some believe it’s “game over” for President Marcos, branding him “damaged goods” — a leader whose credibility has been severely compromised.

If damage has been wrought, is it irreparable? History reminds us that redemption is possible, though never guaranteed. The Philippines has weathered crises before and found ways to rebuild.

The Ramos administration dismantled the telecommunications monopoly through EO 59 (1993) and RA 7925 (1995), ushering in competition and modernizing the industry. Investor confidence grew, laying the foundations for today’s digital economy.

Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo’s Strong Republic Nautical Highway transformed inter-island connectivity, slashing transport costs, improving tourism access, expanding ports, and restructuring domestic trade.

Benigno Aquino III’s administration delivered six straight years of elevated economic growth, averaging 6.2 percent — then the fastest since the 1970s. The Philippines hit 7.8 percent growth in 2013, outperforming even China. For the first time, S&P and Moody’s granted investment-grade ratings, cutting borrowing costs and boosting confidence.

And lest we forget, the Duterte administration — however polarizing — showed that the state can still act decisively.

During Covid-19, Rodrigo Duterte presided over a nationwide mobilization that ultimately pushed the Philippines out of the pandemic with one of Southeast Asia’s highest vaccination rates.

Duterte’s flagship Build, Build, Build program, despite controversies, produced actual infrastructure: roads, bridges, airports, rail segments, and flood control systems. Concrete was poured; steel was raised.

Contrast this with the Marcos administration’s “Build, Better More,” which has devolved into “Build, Better Ghosts” — a portfolio of stalled projects, suspicious budget allocations, and the flood-control scandal now threatening to become the largest corruption case in Philippine history.

The truth many Filipinos whisper, some now loudly, is that perhaps Marcos is not merely presiding over a damaged system but contributing to the damage.

If the corruption uncovered under his watch is as enormous as it appears, placing the burden of repair on the very figure at the center of the storm borders on wishful thinking. Expecting reform from such a structure may be like expecting termites to rebuild the house.

So the real question may no longer be, “What should Marcos do?” but “What must institutions, citizens, and future leaders do despite him?”

The Philippines stands at a crossroads. The damage is serious, but not necessarily permanent. But the path to recovery will not come from waiting for salvation from the top. It will come from pressure — from the public, from independent institutions, from civic movements unwilling to accept decay as destiny.

Hope endures, but perhaps not because of those in power. It endures because Filipinos have always risen highest when they stop waiting for their leaders and start insisting on accountability themselves.