Corruption is the most heinous crime that drains both the resources and lives of a hapless nation.
A week after a 7.8-magnitude earthquake hit Mindanao, half of Jose Abad Santos in Davao Occidental remains unreachable by land. In Glan, Sarangani, 10 of 31 barangays are still cut off.
Roads and bridges built with public funds crumbled; the earthquake exposed that many had been constructed without steel reinforcement.
Testimonies from witnesses and resource persons during public hearings on the flood control scandal suggest that kickbacks from road and bridge contracts far exceed those generated by other government projects.
The Department of Public Works and Highways reported 18 damaged bridges in SOCCSKSARGEN. Six were nearly impassable. At least 41 roads were affected. Twenty were completely impassable. Behind every one of those broken roads is a contract.
These are the areas where much of the budget’s perversion is believed to have occurred, under the assumption that their distance from Manila, the seat of power, would shield them from public scrutiny.
A school building at Matanao National High School in Davao del Sur collapsed, though the Department of Education clarified that it had been condemned following the 2019 earthquake.
It was still standing in 2026, or in a seven-year limbo since its condemnation, which makes it a corruption artifact.
Funds for the replacement of school buildings are allocated in annual budget lines that pass through a procurement system marked by kickback expectations. Consequently, behind every contract are inflated project costs, downgraded specifications, and an inspector who looked away.
Various congressional probes have heard testimonies about exactly this, but the earthquake confirmed it.
Initial damage in General Santos City alone reached P1 billion, a figure that is expected to rise.
Consider the trail of corruption: Behind every collapsed building is a permit that needed signatures, which, in this country, cost money.
The Local Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Fund existed for moments like this. The law requires every local government unit to set aside five percent of its budget for disaster response.
Sarangani did not declare a state of calamity until 10 June. Glan waited until the same day. General Santos moved on 8 June. Two days is a long time for people to be cut off from necessities such as water and electricity.
The National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Council said data collection was difficult due to poor internet connectivity and intermittent signals, which is another anomaly.
The Philippines has been building communications infrastructure for decades, but the government has failed to build systems that work when needed. That, too, is a procurement decision rarely made on merit.
The habagat season is coming. Whatever the earthquake left standing will face rain, floods and landslides.
The earthquake did not cause the failure; it only revealed it. Every impassable road is a reminder of a contract that was overpriced and underbuilt.
A body still unaccounted for is, in part, a grim consequence of a government preoccupied with optics rather than delivering real help.
The ground shook for seconds. The rot that had built up over the years seeped out.