This timeless proclamation is not merely the title of one of the most illustrious speeches in history, but also a profound testament to our identity as a nation. It was penned by Sir Carlos P. Romulo, one of the preeminent Filipino leaders, and a statesman in the truest sense of the term. A statesman, in contrast to a mere politician, is a venerable leader whose vision transcends self-interest, dedicating himself to the service of his country. Romulo embodied this ideal - deeply esteemed not only within the Philippines but also across the globe.

As I compose this reflection, I do so with profound humility, as a means of honoring Romulo and the myriad heroes - both celebrated and unsung - who have selflessly sacrificed for our cherished nation. I confess that my eyes well up with emotion as I endeavor to articulate these sentiments. There are instances when I grapple with self-doubt: is my introduction sufficiently compelling to seize attention? Do my opening sentences encapsulate the essence of my argument? Will I be able to sustain my narrative, addressing the who, what, when, where, why, and how that every writer must confront? These inquiries linger in my mind, yet I persevere, for this essay transcends mere writing - it is a profound exploration of my identity.

I find myself modestly situated in my mid-40s, a father to a vibrant 6-year-old. I have dedicated two decades to the noble profession of teaching, spent 25 years as an advocate within the NGO sector, and currently serve as a public servant in my barangay. Each day, as I traverse the path between home and work, I often pause by the roadside, absentmindedly plucking leaves from nearby plants, my mind flooded with disturbing thoughts. Is the Philippines a lost cause? Am I genuinely contributing enough to secure a brighter future for my child? Doubt seeps in, and at times, it feels insurmountable. Yet, after a moment of contemplation, I find solace in a gentle smile, a hushed prayer, and I remind myself that tomorrow heralds yet another day of potential, a day brimming with hope.

“I am a Filipino” transcended mere admiration; it constituted a pivotal chapter in my personal odyssey. Throughout my high school and collegiate years, I recited it in oratorical competitions, where it bestowed upon me both triumphs and a profound sense of pride. More than a quarter of a century later, the potency of Romulo’s eloquence continues to resonate inside me. Each line vividly encapsulates our nation's victories and tribulations, its sorrows and aspirations. His words serve as a poignant reminder that, despite the acrimony of our historical narrative, an indomitable flame of promise persists for the generations yet to come.

And yet, there exists a caveat. A persistent sense of disquiet resides deep in my conscience. I harbor no doubts regarding our collective potential as a people, yet I grapple with the tide of emotions surging within me just hearing the names of many so-called leaders in our midst today. Instead of a sense of pride, I am consumed by a profound indignation. How is it that Filipinos, entrusted with the stewardship of their compatriots, have permitted avarice and corruption to taint our institutions? How many of us silently murmur, ENOUGH IS ENOUGH! Must I disconnect from the television, the internet, and social media merely to safeguard my child's innocence?

Sometimes, I ponder: should we relinquish the pursuit of justice to the divine, as the venerable adage suggests - “Vengeance is not ours, it belongs to God”? Or must we take action, bearing in mind the Scriptural assurance that “all things work together for good”? Are we merely awaiting karma, or do we lack the fortitude to act? Am I oblivious? Am I in a state of slumber? Or am I merely feigning sleep out of trepidation regarding the consequences of rising up?

I am a Filipino. This identity signifies more than mere nationality; it embodies a profound responsibility. If I choose to remain silent, does that diminish my essence as a Filipino? If I stand idly by while corruption siphons the life out of my nation, am I not betraying the valiant heroes who preceded me? Most importantly, what legacy shall I bequeath to my child and to generations yet unborn? I could conjure an array of more questions steeped in doubt, reflecting on what has transpired and what may yet unfold, but will such introspection yield the truth?

Carlos P. Romulo once proclaimed that being Filipino is not merely a privilege, but an honor and a profound duty. Today, I find myself pondering - along with all of us - whether we continue to embody this truth. I contend that the answer resides not solely in our rhetoric, but in our deliberate actions - immediate and resolute - for our nation, for our compatriots, and for the generations that will follow.

LAST week, I covered Sen. Panfilo “Ping” Lacson’s exposé on how human actions turn floods into disasters. Today’s column focuses on the dramatis personae — legislators, Cabinet members, government officials and local authorities involved in corruption — who exploit the national budget.

We have seen this before. We have seen it too many times. The ghost of pork barrel politics haunts our national budget like an unwanted revenant — Lazarus resurrected. The Supreme Court’s 2013 ruling against the Priority Development Assistance Fund (PDAF) after the Napoles scandal was heralded as a cleansing act, the dawn of transparent governance — kuno. And yet here we are, a decade later, wading through a swamp of “insertions” and “lump sums.” Pork is alive. Pork is fat. And pork is now dressed up as “flood control.” But this time, the ongoing corruption is intertwined with another, equally potent narrative of political intrigue and rivalry between the Marcos and Duterte camps vying for dominance in the 2028 elections and beyond.

The Senate coup

The recent upheaval in the Senate, a miniature version of this larger battle, depicts a seesaw war of attrition between these two forces. The aftermath of the earlier 2025 senatorial elections saw the Duterte bloc in the ascendancy, confidently squashing the VP Sara impeachment, orchestrated by Senate President Escudero and the not so subtle attempt to humiliate her bete noire, potential presidential rival, Speaker Martin Romualdez, through the Blue Ribbon Committee hearings.

However, the meticulously planned script unraveled in a stunning twist. This elegant takeover, executed with breathtaking speed, saw 10 senators defect from the supermajority bloc to form a new 15-member coalition. This swift maneuver restored Tito Sotto to the Senate presidency and stripped the pro-Duterte bloc of its key leadership positions, including Senator Marcoleta’s chairmanship of the Blue Ribbon Committee. What was anticipated to be a moment of achievement for the Duterte camp instead became a significant setback, highlighting the risks associated with political overconfidence.

The humiliation deepened as the House of Representatives, having absorbed the initial blow, delivered a devastating counterpunch. While the Duterte bloc-led Blue Ribbon’s witnesses offered only empty allegations, aided by the incongruous interpellation of Sen. Jinggoy Estrada who himself has been incriminated by corruption in the past, the House brought forward the DPWH mafiosi — the “BGC Boys” who provided tangible evidence — photographs, text messages and direct testimony — against Senators Jinggoy himself and Joel Villanueva. This move turned the tables, placing these senators in a far more precarious legal and political position.

The Discayas and the media

At the center of this storm are the Discayas, suddenly elevated to the limelight by a compliant press. Only months ago, Sarah Discaya was profiled as a “smart city visionary,” a fresh face of entrepreneurship, philanthropy and public service. How expedient. How polished. How utterly false. Legislative hearings stripped away the veneer, revealing a British Filipino owner-wife whose nine construction firms anomalously bid against each other for nearly 500 DPWH projects and won 71. Substandard dikes in Bulacan and Iloilo, already crumbling, were traced back to their companies.

Equally damning is the role of the media in laundering this corruption through glossy profiles. This is the betrayal behind the betrayal. When the Babaos and Korinas trade their watchdog teeth for lapdog flattery, the public is not just misinformed, it is disarmed. And when the flood comes, it is not the Discayas who drown. It is the ordinary Filipino who trusted the headlines.

The enablers: The BGC Boys

The web of corruption extends deeper, with the “BGC Boys” (Bulacan Group of Contractors) as key facilitators for these contractors. They stand accused of pocketing billions and laundering funds via casino transactions. The scandal centers on a staggering P28.9 billion worth of flood control projects, some discovered to be “ghost projects.” The magnitude of the irregularities points to a systemic perversion of public funds, a cancer within the bureaucracy.

Whistleblowers now claim officials use “dummy” companies as fronts to corner contracts. And then there is Zaldy Co, erstwhile congressional appropriations committee chair, House Speaker Martin’s acolyte whose party-lists reportedly received P4 billion in projects, plus another P13 billion under his company, Sunwest, one of the 15 contractors mentioned by the President.

The circle of corruption is complete: the legislator writes the budget, the contractor receives the contract, the dummies build the flood walls, the engineers validate and launder the funds, the flood walls crumble, and the people suffer.

The Teflon-clad Villar

Yet, one figure remains untouched: Sen. Mark Villar. Netizens are grumbling why Villar sits in judgment as a senator, not as a defendant like his successor, Secretary Bonoan. Under President Duterte’s “Build, Build, Build,” and during Villar’s incumbency as Public Works secretary, a staggering 44,000 projects were awarded in just two years. Now, he escapes scrutiny, perhaps daunted by their powerful dynasty. Mark’s sister, Camille, now sits as senator, replacing mother Cynthia in the last election. Manny, the billionaire patriarch, used to be a Senate president and speaker of the lower house. Villar promoted the notorious Henry Alcantara as district engineer of Bulacan’s first engineering district. The Deegong once defended Villar by saying he was “too rich to be corrupt.” A truly pathetic defense.

In this grim landscape, a maverick figure emerges in the form of Sen. Ping Lacson, now the new Blue Ribbon Committee chairman. He warned that senators and congressmen may be complicit in these anomalous projects and has reiterated his call for complete transparency. Lacson, who in his past stint as a senator never partook of the “pork barrel,” is now being attacked by the Duterte camp and their social media trolls. He must be doing the right thing.

His hearings are expected to disclose irregularities, this time dating back to the Duterte administration, a stark contrast to Marcoleta’s that focused only on the Marcos era. During his questioning of the Discayas, the clueless senator-comedian Bato de la Rosa inadvertently revealed that the Discayas were among the largest contractors during President Duterte’s term.

Additionally, it was disclosed that a substantial budget of P51 billion was allocated to congressman Paolo Duterte of Davao during the first three years of his father’s presidency. Also, despite Sen. Bong Go’s denials in his privilege speech, his family’s firm CLTG Builders partnered with the Discayas on a P816-million project in Davao in 2017 — and perhaps more.

Lacson who does his homework promises to link more actors to this perversion. So far, he has linked the shameless Bonoan to the MBB Global Properties, contracting for the DPWH. MBB could stand for the daughter-owners of Candaba Mayor Maglangue, DPWH Undersecretary Bernardo and Bonoan. And another high-ranking DPWH undersecretary for planning, Catalina Cabral, may be on the chopping block.

More political corruption will soon be exposed. The key question is whether these revelations will lead to genuine accountability or will simply fade into another wasted reckoning — another moro-moro. The integrity of our institutions and the welfare of the Filipino people hang in the balance.

We need to be vigilant with our street marches and protests fueled by our anger and rage!

THERE is a cruel irony emerging in our country today. As swollen rivers sweep away homes and drown entire communities, billions of pesos meant to protect them have vanished. They were stolen in plain sight, disguised as “flood control projects.”

Sen. Panfilo “Ping” Lacson’s latest revelations have not merely exposed the rot beneath the veneer of bureaucracy; they have mapped its very anatomy. What he has revealed is a system so intricate and audaciously shameless, where theft is normalized, even systematic. It’s a stark example of “creative corruption” — a more elegant phrase for plunder, which, in Philippine jurisprudence, is a crime deserving life imprisonment.

While ordinary Filipinos wade through waist-deep floods, powerful hands are wading through public coffers. The people lose homes; the corrupt gain houses, not to mention dozens of luxury vehicles — including Bentleys and Rolls Royces — in their garages. The public drowns in despair; syndicates swim in cash.

The mathematics of plunder and a dictionary of deceit

The senator highlights how funds are distributed in a P100-million flood control project. After standard legal deductions, about P82 million should be available for construction. However, a more detailed breakdown reveals that portions go to “dirty little fingers.” The process is a fiscal feeding frenzy, where each actor takes their pre-negotiated cut:

– 8 to 10 percent to Department of Public Works and Highways officials: plain “kickback.”

– 6 percent to district engineers: “reseta” contractors must swallow.

– 5 to 6 percent to the Bids and Awards Committee.

– 0.5 to 1 percent to the Commission on Audit (COA).

– 5 to 6 percent as “parking fees” for politicians who control the districts.

– 20 to 25 percent for the “funder” — the lawmaker who inserts the project into the budget.

What remains is insufficient for constructing a reliable dike, let alone protecting communities from typhoons and their accompanying floods. This goes beyond mere government inefficiency; it is deliberate and systematic theft, planned with precision.

Case studies in betrayal

The consequences of this mathematical plunder are not buried in spreadsheets, but written in the mud and misery of inundated villages across the archipelago. The anecdotal evidence cited by Lacson is not a series of isolated failures, but a pattern of betrayal. In Bulacan, 30 “ghost projects” existing only on paper were funded and disbursed. Reports were filed by the DPWH with the COA’s imprimatur, but not a single stone was laid.

The same insidious pattern is seen in Pampanga, where the flood control project in Candaba town ballooned from P20 million to a staggering P274 million through repeated, never-ending “repairs,” always awarded to the same contractor. A dam was built, but it was designed not to hold water, but to hold plundered funds.

In La Union, the Bauang River Basin — initially a reasonable P100 million in the National Expenditure Program (NEP) — mysteriously swelled to P1.6 billion after congressional insertions. The river did not expand; the greed did, flowing with an unstoppable current. And in Oriental Mindoro, nearly P19 billion in flood control funds over just three years resulted in dikes that collapsed after the first heavy rainfall.

One P193-million project turned out to be a mirage, existing only in documents. These are not isolated anomalies. They are symptoms of a design, a cruel blueprint where corruption is the foundation and collapse in good governance is the inevitable result.

The machinery of patronage

At the heart of this fiscal manipulation lies a powerful machinery of political patronage, where elections are prioritized over genuine infrastructure needs. Ghost projects are not accidents, but tools of power. A lawmaker can boast of a P1-billion insertion in the budget to secure loyalty from local officials and constituents, while mayors and governors overlook shoddy quality in exchange for campaign largesse that ensure their continued reign.

This system is enabled by government agencies themselves. The DPWH, the very entity responsible for upholding engineering standards, often becomes a facilitator of kickbacks. Even the COA, the supposed last line of defense, is alleged to receive its “share” of the spoils.

Contractors, caught between a rock and a hard place, must either comply and become complicit or be left out of the game entirely. The result is a nation held hostage, where political interests consistently outweigh public safety, leaving citizens at risk with every storm.

The legislative triumvirate

The most egregious example of this machinery was executed behind the 2025 General Appropriations Act’s fiscal manipulation by Speaker Martin Romualdez; Ako Bicol Party-list Rep. and House appropriations panel chairman Zaldy Co (also a contractor), and Marikina’s then-representative Stella Quimbo. They allegedly orchestrated one of the most brazen budget insertions, earmarking over P400 billion — nearly half of the trillion-plus national budget — for flood control projects under the DPWH. As of this publication, two dozen House members have been implicated in this corruption (the subject of my next column). These funds didn’t come from nowhere. They were siphoned off from critical social services of the Department of Education and the Philippine Health Insurance Corp., both already battered by chronic underfunding. The money was hidden and rebranded as “climate resilience” initiatives.

A nation drowning twice

Floods damage homes and crops, but corruption undermines trust even more deeply. Each failed project and stolen peso weaken faith in government and democratic institutions.

Flood control should be an act of survival in a country battered by as much as 20 typhoons a year. Instead, it has become an act of betrayal, where the public pays the price while the corrupt pocket the funds. The Philippines is not just drowning in floodwaters; it is drowning in greed.

This loss of trust breeds widespread apathy and despair. When citizens view leaders as corrupt, they feel powerless to effect change, leading to disengagement from civic duties, such as paying taxes or voting. This apathetic despair is the second flood, a rising tide of hopelessness that is far more destructive than any storm.

From flood control to greed control

Lacson’s call for “greed control” deserves more than applause; it demands action. Reforms must begin with budget transparency. Every insertion must be tracked, every contractor scrutinized, every peso accounted for.

Accreditation boards like the Philippine Contractors Accreditation Board (PCAB) must be cleaned out. Whistleblowers must be protected, not silenced. And when ghost projects are exposed, prosecutions must follow swiftly. Preventive suspensions or mere resignations are just bureaucratic theater; they’re mere “moro-moro.”

Most of all, citizens must resist acquiescence. Corruption thrives when outrage drowns in apathy. The floods are not only natural; they are political. And like floods, they will rise again and again unless levees of reform are built.

Lacson has handed the nation not just a report, but a mirror. We should not avert our gaze. Recovering P1.9 trillion is important, but recovering our integrity is even more so. This is not just a fight for clean dikes and stronger floodgates; it is a struggle for the soul of governance itself. To remain silent is to be complicit. To accept this corruption is to admit that the Filipino people will forever drown — sometimes in water, always in greed.

We should respond with our own storm of rage, a flood of our anger!

MY last two columns were on the Ukraine war firmly now in Trump’s court; and the state of his incoherence on ending seven wars in seven months. Today’s is an analysis on the Anchorage one-on-one meeting with Putin — a two-man show — one a failed dealmaker, the other a global mobster; followed three days later by a White House gathering with Zelenskyy and European allies which was incongruously hawked by MAGA as a diplomatic breakthrough: a triumph for Trump and a humiliation for Putin.

The reality tells a different narrative exposing deep strategic risks: a US president willing to normalize relations with a revanchist Russia, discussing territorial compromises for Ukraine — without even the participation of Zelenskyy. (This is analogous to America extorting the Philippine territories from Spain for $20 million, after Spain lost the Spanish-American war; without the participation of Philippine President Emilio Aguinaldo, precipitating the Filipino-American war. But this digression is a topic for another column).

The consequences reached well beyond Kyiv. Europe’s security posture is weakened, NATO cohesion is strained, and partners in East Asia have new reason to fear that the United States may be a more capricious guarantor of the international order than assumed.

What happened in Alaska was striking less for any concrete deliverables than for its symbolism. Putin received a highly publicized red carpet welcome at a US military base; the meeting produced upbeat public motherhood statements but no ceasefire, no binding commitments, and no substantive agreement to reverse Russia’s battlefield gains. In the follow-up session at the White House, Trump hosted Zelenskyy and European leaders to discuss “security guarantees” for Ukraine. Yet the outlines advanced publicly were vague: talk of “NATO Article5like” assurances without the definitive US commitments of boots-on-the-ground; and suggestions that territorial adjustments — a Russian-proposed land swap in Donetsk in exchange for small returns elsewhere — could be part of a peace framework.

Risks

I see several major risks stemming from this political theater. First, the summit’s optics and rhetoric rehabilitated Putin’s image and softened the stance on sanctions, effectively rewarding Russia for its aggression instead of punishing it. Putin was made to look like a “winner,” which weakens the West’s punitive leverage.

Second, offering security guarantees without credible enforcement and a willingness to deploy forces invites future aggression. These empty promises are seen as dangerous, and Trump has become an expert on this “forked tongue” approach that undermines deterrence.

Third, the consequences for Ukraine are seen as existential. Forcing Kyiv to negotiate while fighting is a form of negotiation “under the barrel of a gun.” A ceasefire must precede any durable settlement; otherwise, Moscow can consolidate gains and impose terms. Such a deal, based on vague security guarantees, risks turning Ukraine into a dependent state and could cause political fracture in Kyiv and instability within the country.

Finally, the diplomatic process that sidelined Ukraine in Anchorage also speaks to a broader problem: the marginalization of European voices in discussions about European security. The idea that the future of the continent could be discussed without the meaningful participation of the nations most directly affected is a dangerous reminder of an older style of great power bargaining — equivalent to the decision-making process in a proverbial “smoke-filled room.” The lack of a treaty at the Alaska meeting shows that US unilateral talks with Russia can disrupt transatlantic coordination, forcing European capitals to scramble to set their own red lines after the fact.

Repercussions in Asia

This dynamic has wider strategic repercussions in East Asia. Security in that region rests in part on a norms-based order that discourages conquest and coercion. If major powers observe that the United States can re-engage and “embrace” an aggressor without sustained costs, the deterrent effect of US commitments declines.

Beijing is likely to watch how US decision-making responds to personal diplomacy and flattery. The risk is not that China will immediately do a Ukraine on Taiwan, but that it will be more enticed to alter the status quo in the South China Sea if the perceived cost of doing so is lower. And the Philippines astride the West Philippine Sea which has relied on the primacy and psychological defense of the 2016 Hague arbitral ruling and America’s mutual defense assurances may for its own survival hedge or accommodate Beijing.

These summits have become transactional and driven by individual personalities, undermining stable, institutional policymaking. When national security decisions are filtered through an idiosyncratic leader who prizes deal-making, flattery and headline achievements, predictable, institutionally grounded policy gives way to episodic bargains.

Authoritarian leaders, like Putin and Xi who understand that calculus are masters at this game. For example, Putin’s praise of Trump’s false election claims demonstrates how such interactions can be used as propaganda. As I have always maintained, the puerile but cognitively impaired Donald is putty in the hands of Vlad. And Xi is following his lead.

Democratic initiatives

What should Western and Asian partners do in response? First, Europe must accelerate its own capability building and deeper integration so that it is less dependent on US posture for immediate deterrence. That means targeted investments in mobility, logistics, air defense, counter-drone technology, reserve systems and interoperable command structures.

It also means treating Ukraine as a strategic partner in a manner that goes beyond ad hoc aid: sustained arms transfers, training partnerships, and institutional ties that make the country more resilient irrespective of Washington’s short-term policy volatility. Trump’s demand for 5 percent increase on GDP for NATO defense spending could be a serendipitous decision.

Second, allies must clarify the meaning of any “security guarantees.” Vague, media-friendly phrases are insufficient. Guarantees must be accompanied by measurable commitments — basing, prepositioning, joint exercises, rapid reinforcement plans and possibly codified treaties — or they will be worthless as deterrents. NATO could threaten “boots on the ground” as Putin did with his North Korean allies.

Third, East Asian states should redouble regional cooperation and diversify deterrence. Japan, South Korea, Australia, India and Southeast Asian states may accelerate renewed investment in indigenous capabilities upgrades, supply chain diversification, and deeper intraregional security cooperation (e.g., QUAD, Aukus), making coercion costlier and less attractive for revisionist powers. Diplomatic coordination among democracies in Asia and Europe can also help preserve norms by collectively applying costs for territorial aggression.

Finally, Democratic states can enhance institutional mechanisms limiting the risk of abrupt changes in foreign policy disrupting collective security. Examples include US congressional oversight, though Trump has short-circuited the process; consultative procedures within NATO and the EU; and transparent multilateral decision-making, all of which may help ensure that consistent strategy takes precedence over episodic shifts in diplomacy.

The Alaska summit and similar diplomatic engagements that rely on symbolic meetings and ambiguous promises undermine global security by weakening deterrence and sidelining crucial stakeholders. This approach, suiting Trump’s DNA as a reality TV star, and Putin’s bullyboy persona, prioritizes optics over substance and risks leaving allies with unfavorable peace terms unless they reinforce their commitments.

The central message is that true peace and security depend on consistent policy and tangible strength. Not the appearance of hocus-pocus diplomacy.