CEBU, Philippines — Hollow block by hollow block, the Bugtai family is rebuilding their washed-out home in Liloan, a half-hour drive from Cebu City. When I visited two days after Christmas, seven weeks after a typhoon ravaged their community, they were eating a soupy chicken stew for lunch inside the barebones structure, the children playing with their new toys.
On November 4, strong winds and heavy rain caused by typhoon Tino submerged the Bugtai home and the rest of the town. The family by then had fled to higher ground, staying with relatives in upland Compostela, hoping they would be spared. But the waters still reached them there, and 10 members of their family were swept away in the flood.
Tino was the country’s deadliest typhoon last year. It left 269 dead and 113 missing.
When the waters subsided, the Bugtai family went back to Liloan. There, in the wreckage of their old home, they held a wake for six of their departed kin. Rescuers were still searching for the remaining four.
Over a month later, I found a family mired in grief. They could not find it in themselves to enjoy the holiday season, said Mary Jane Sajor.
Although many weeks have passed, she still had not given hope of finding two of their missing loved ones: 72-year-old matriarch Calexta Bugtai and a three-month-old baby. “It’s hard to grieve and move on without at least seeing their bodies,” she said, her voice breaking.
On another street, Rose Arañez has refurnished her home with new wares. Some of her belongings were lost, but her house withstood Tino. She said it’s a miracle that she and her husband, who has a leg injury, survived.
The floodwaters, she said, rose rapidly, reaching over five feet. Rose sought higher ground by swimming to a nearby four-story building. Her husband, who was separated from her because of the flood, managed to climb to their roof. But in the field across their house, rescuers recovered the bodies of construction workers swept away by the raging currents.
Until now, Rose still trembles whenever heavy rains fall or strong winds blow through Liloan. She has lived in the town for decades and this was the first time she had experienced such flooding. Liloan’s mayor said heavy rainfall and the floodwaters that cascaded from the uplands caused the disaster.
Rose is no longer secure. What if this happens again?
“If we rely on the government, we will just die,” she said. Rose lamented how the government builds flood-control projects in a matter of months up to one year, only for these to crumble when typhoons ravage. “What a waste of public funds,” she said.
A man-made disaster
Since 2020, the government has allotted over P1.5 billion for flood control structures along the Cotcot River which runs through Liloan and Compostela. The government’s public works database marks some of these structures as “completed;” others are “ongoing” or “not yet started.”
These projects were supposed to prevent the kind of flooding that Liloan residents experienced. But that clearly didn’t happen.
Officials who visited the area two weeks after the disaster found that a P149-million flood-control project in Liloan and neighboring Compostela did not follow the masterplan—a protective wall on the riverbank was built before there was a water catchment area. The contract for the project was awarded to Alpha & Omega Gen. Contractor & Development Corp, founded by Sarah and Pacifico Discaya who are currently facing graft, tax evasion and bid rigging allegations linked to their public works contracts, and their partner, MC Geometric Proportions, Inc.
Cebu is one of the biggest recipients of flood-control funds—P26 billion from 2022 to 2025. “One of the most expensive flood control projects is located along the Cotcot River in Liloan,” Jun Abines, lead convenor of the newly formed Cebu Citizen Anti-Corruption Watch told the Cebu Daily News. “One project alone cost P279 million. And we discovered at least six Cotcot River flood control projects, which we will visit, inspect, and verify if they truly exist.”
Liloan is not an outlier. The Department of Environment and Natural Resources found that only 23% of over 5,300 flood-control projects implemented from 2021 to 2024 have effectively protected communities from flooding. They found structures that only worsened flooding or transferred flood risk to other areas.
Meanwhile, lawmakers and resigned officials linked to the flood-control corruption scandal remain free, living in gated villages, flying to luxury destinations.
Big fish haven’t been charged
By Rappler’s count, only 12 people have been jailed so far for their involvement in multibillion peso payoffs to officials. These include two contractors, Alpha & Omega owner Sarah Discaya and her niece, Angeline Rimando, the owner of St. Timothy Construction Company, who were charged for anomalies in the construction of a ghost flood-control project in Davao Occidental. In addition, 10 former mid-level public works officials from DPWH Mimaropa are facing charges for their involvement in a substandard road dike in Oriental Mindoro.
Not a single elected or high-level official has been held to account despite former public works officials and contractors’ testimonies that several lawmakers and executive officials took billions of pesos in kickbacks from flood-control projects.
The so-called “poster boy” of the scandal, former Ako Bicol Party-list Rep. Elizaldy Co, is believed to still be overseas despite malversation charges involving the Oriental Mindoro road dike in which other DPWH officials have also been charged. As former House appropriations committee chair, he had allegedly “inserted” into the national budget P35 billion worth of public works projects between 2022 and 2025, pocketing as much as P8 billion in payoffs, based on PCIJ estimates.
Former House Speaker and presidential cousin Leyte Rep. Ferdinand Martin Romualdez and Senators Jose “Jinggoy” Estrada Jr., Francis “Chiz” Escudero and Joel Villanueva, who have all been accused of receiving kickbacks, have not been charged either and are still free to attend sessions in Congress.
Resigned public works secretary Manuel Bonoan, who oversaw DPWH projects during the first three years of the Marcos administration, has yet to return to the country to face ongoing investigations.
Hearings and investigations are not enough
President Marcos unleashed a storm when he raged against corruption in flood-control projects during his State of the Nation Address in July. The rollout of the Sumbong sa Pangulo website and DPWH’s transparency portal provided grist for investigations by legislators, journalists, and citizens. These investigations revealed a deeply entrenched system of kickbacks–sometimes as much as 60 percent—in public works projects that enriched legislators and executive branch officials.
A series of congressional hearings exposed the modus. Lawmakers and other public officials allegedly “inserted” projects into the national budget and negotiated with public works officials on their kickback percentages. Former DPWH officials then admitted to stashing the payoffs in multiple suitcases and delivering them to the project proponents’ trusted bagmen.
But this information did not suffice to hold those responsible accountable. Livestreamed hearings and transparency about project costs and locations revealed graft of epic proportions but authorities could not—or chose not to—identify and prosecute the masterminds behind anomalous projects.
In September, President Marcos created the Independent Commission for Infrastructure to probe anomalous public works projects over the past decade. But the commission has been hobbled by resignations and criticized for lacking subpoena power, rendering it toothless against uncooperative suspects.
The death of former public works undersecretary Maria Catalina Cabral on December 19 further darkened the picture. She was a key figure in exposing corruption at the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH)— she was the keeper of proponent lists and the alleged architect of “allocables,” the modern version of pork barrel in the agency.
President Marcos promised to jail “many” flood-control corruption culprits before Christmas. December 25 arrived, but to the dismay of critics, no high-level officials have been arrested. On December 27, Malacañang updated its messaging: more arrests will come in the new year.
Proponent lists should be public
Since August, some lawmakers have been repeatedly calling for the release of proponent lists of DPWH projects. These documents would show who “inserted” projects during closed-door budget deliberations. Congressional hearings have shown that numerous projects allegedly inserted by lawmakers and other high-ranking executive officials in the 19th Congress had become sources of kickbacks.
Navotas Rep. Tobias “Toby” Tiangco, ACT Teachers Party-list Rep. Antonio Tinio, and Batangas Rep. Leandro Leviste have all pushed for their disclosure, arguing the lists are vital to achieving genuine transparency.
Their insistence, particularly Leviste’s incessant noise about the topic, finally prompted the DPWH to release proponent files, among other DPWH-related documents, to the Ombudsman on December 23. Since then, liberals, progressives and budget watchdogs have clamored even more loudly for the public release or verification, at the very least, of proponent lists.
Some political analysts and journalists have dismissed the “hype” over these documents. They say “requests” or “insertions” should not be equated with graft because it is normal for government officials and even ordinary citizens to ask for public works projects. Even so, insertions subvert the budget process, making it prone to discretion rather than to an objective assessment of needs.
Moreover, the lack of transparency raises suspicions. Even when requests are made in good faith, the public still deserves to know who lobbied for the projects in their localities. Disclosure strengthens the people’s ability to make officials accountable when public infrastructure fails to protect them, when bridges fall, roads crumble, and classrooms remain unfinished.
Secrecy in the 19th Congress’ budget process and the complicity of the executive has fueled what many now call the biggest corruption scandal in Philippine history. When spending decisions are hidden from scrutiny and checks and balances fail, bad deeds flourish.
Ordinary Filipinos suffer the consequences of corrupt public works projects: months of displacement and a lifetime of trauma and grief. When the budget is deliberated behind closed doors and eventually goes straight to the pockets of greedy public officials, vulnerable citizens pay the ultimate price.
If the government is serious about exacting justice, it knows where to begin: release the proponent lists. Name, prosecute, and punish the most liable individuals who turned flood control into business. Ensure that the budget for this year, which watchdogs have said are still pork-laden, will not share the same fate as in previous years.
Watching her family make do with their still unfinished home in Liloan, I asked Mary Jane what keeps her hopeful. “What strengthens me is knowing that we are searching together,” she said.
Searching together—that seems an apt metaphor for what awaits Filipinos in the new year. Like Mary Jane, we remain hopeful. But hope alone doesn’t suffice. The noise and the rage needs to be sustained.
The lesson from Liloan is this: We cannot just wait for the next disaster to strike. —With reports from Maverick Avila.