Fury over corruption and 'nepo babies' as floods paralyse Philippines
Public anger over flood-control projects and suspected graft spills from social media into the streets as authorities pledge inquiries and reforms.
Fury over corruption and floods paralyze large parts of the Philippines, with public anger over flood-control projects spilling from social media into the streets as communities cope with worsening monsoon rains.
In Apalit, a low-lying town near Manila, 36-year-old public school teacher Crissa Tolentino paddles a boat to reach work and a local clinic. She says she sees dry streets for only about two months each year, but this season’s ferocious monsoon has derailed daily life. Tolentino says she feels betrayed, noting that taxes are deducted from her salary yet billions are allegedly siphoned by corrupt officials.
Floodwaters have stranded millions, turned streets into rivers, and sparked outbreaks of leptospirosis. President Ferdinand Marcos Jr visited a flood-control dam that, he later noted, did not exist, and he announced an inquiry to identify those responsible and determine how much was stolen. An official briefing later said corruption has claimed about 70% of funds allocated for flood-control projects. The House Speaker resigned amid graft allegations, and the Senate leader was removed after it emerged that a contractor who won a government bid donated to the lawmaker’s 2022 campaign, which is illegal. Attention has focused on a family-owned business run by Pacifico and Sarah Discaya, whose wealth has become a focus of the controversy as authorities have blacklisted their firm and the central bank has frozen assets.
Online anger has also targeted the so-called nepo babies—the children of wealthy politicians and contractors seen on social media with luxurious lifestyles. In parallel, Discaya’s story has been stitched into the national discourse; the couple previously appeared on YouTube sharing their rags-to-riches story, and videos show a large fleet of luxury cars. The Discayas and other contractors have accused more than a dozen lawmakers of taking kickbacks, but the lawmakers deny wrongdoing. A collective called Creators Against Corruption says it will keep pressing for accountability, while some public-works employees report harassment as probes widen.
Offline anger is evident in ordinary life. In Calumpit town, Rhens Rafael Galang, a 28-year-old government researcher, has built a side business selling rain-overalls with sewn-in boots on TikTok as floods complicate daily routines. He says funds for flood-control projects were wasted on the personal gain of a few, but he remains hopeful that long-term projects will eventually be built and funds used honestly.
Filipinos are no strangers to corruption allegations; in 2013 lawmakers were accused of pocketing billions in discretionary funds for ghost projects. The former justice secretary Leila de Lima says she is worried the scale has magnified, and expresses concern. The flood crisis adds to long-standing questions about governance and climate resilience. An anti-corruption protest is planned for Sunday, September 21, the anniversary of martial law, as the president’s administration faces growing calls for reform.
Across the country, the floods underscore the intersection of climate risk, urban planning, and governance. While officials pledge relief and accountability, residents wait for concrete steps to ensure that flood-control funding reaches the projects that can protect communities and livelihoods in the long run.