Ghost from the past

Back in the day, I remember being stuck in traffic on a flooded Quezon City street, watching the murky water lap at the tires of jeepneys. The usual chorus of sighs and muttered complaints filled the air. 

I remember the man next to me shaking his head and saying, “Sana ginawa na lang talaga nang maayos ang drainage noon pa” (I wish they had done the drainage right before). If he only knew how right he was, and how deep the roots of that “noon pa” truly went.

That “noon pa” takes us directly back to the Marcos Sr. era, a period we often discuss in abstract terms of dictatorship and stolen wealth. The corruption, however, wasn’t abstract. It was poured, quite literally, into the very foundations of our country, including the flood control projects that still fail us today.

The story began with a chance for genuine recovery. After the devastation of World War II, the Japanese government provided war reparations to the Philippines. 

This was meant to be a lifeline, intended as loans for our private sector to import machinery and equipment from Japan to rebuild. But when the late Ferdinand Marcos Sr. assumed the presidency in 1965, he diverted a massive portion of the loans to public works. 

The objective, according to historical accounts, wasn’t nation-building — it was profit-taking. He allegedly became known as “Mr. 15%,” demanding a cut of every project funded by Japanese money.

The system was reportedly brazen. Japanese contractors would send their “rebates” or kickbacks through Hong Kong, straight into the now infamous Swiss bank accounts of the Marcos family. 

The late Minister of Public Works, Baltazar Aquino, confirmed this in an affidavit, stating that he was a conduit, sending the full amount “according to [Marcos’] instructions.” 

The greed was said to be so systemic that the Japanese contractors were reportedly shocked when the demanded commission suddenly doubled from 15 percent to 30 percent, with an extra cut going to the Reparations Committee.

From 1966 to 1981, it’s believed the Philippines received about $300 million in these reparations. From that, estimates suggest Marcos Sr. pocketed around $47.7 million — a 15.9 percent cut of the money meant to uplift the nation. 

Buried in the records from 1973 to 1977 are the flood prevention projects for Metro Manila. The scandal involving these yen loans was just a preview of the massive infrastructure corruption that would define the martial law years, from the San Juanico Bridge to the Bataan Nuclear Power Plant.

Which is why it’s so unsettling to hear President Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. express shock at the “massive corruption” in infrastructure today, as if it only started in 2023. It makes you wonder about the power of selective memory. 

The greatest robbery of a government, as many historians have called his father’s regime, was built on this very blueprint. The kickbacks taken from those Japanese loans vanished into a Swiss vault. They also created a legacy of substandard infrastructure.

So, the next time you’re stuck in traffic because a slight downpour has again paralyzed a major thoroughfare, remember that the water isn’t just water. It’s a ghost from the past. 

Never forget that corruption is more than stolen cash. It’s a scholarship robbed from a bright student, a hospital for sick loved ones that is crumbling, or a dangerous bridge in your own neighborhood. 

The real cost is what that money was meant for — the schools that never got built, the ambulances that never arrived, and the dreams that were forever put out of reach. That’s the true theft — of stolen futures, stolen safety, and stolen opportunities. 

It’s the physical manifestation of a rotten system poured into concrete, and it’s a history we cannot afford to forget, especially when it is repeating itself.