Want Citizens to Report? Fix Government’s Flood Control Website

Wazzup Pilipinas!?

On August 11, 2025, President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. launched what was supposed to be a milestone in government transparency: a website containing nationwide data on flood control projects. At first glance, the initiative promised openness and accountability. Yet what could have been a groundbreaking step quickly revealed itself as a frustrating exercise in poor design and half-baked transparency.

Journalists, researchers, and ordinary citizens who visited the “Sumbong sa Pangulo” website expecting clarity instead found themselves trapped in a maze of endless clicking, scattered markers, and poorly organized tables. The platform, intended to be a tool for citizen engagement, functions more like a digital filing cabinet — one where documents are buried so deeply that only the most persistent can unearth them.

Take the database at the center of the site: it lists only 20 projects at a time. With over 9,000 contracts in the system, users must endlessly click “load more” just to scratch the surface. Worse, the projects are arranged chronologically instead of by province or region, forcing anyone seeking patterns or local relevance into hours of mindless scrolling.

The interactive map is no better. Those hoping to see which provinces receive the most projects, which contractors dominate bidding, or how money is distributed across the archipelago are left overwhelmed by endless scrolling and pin-clicking. The information exists, but its inaccessibility renders it nearly useless.

This failure underscores a critical truth: releasing information is not enough. Accessibility and navigability define the real value of transparency. As veteran journalists know, data locked behind poor design is almost as inaccessible as data withheld. Citizens deserve more than token gestures; they deserve tools that empower them to understand how public funds are being spent in their communities.

Recognizing this gap, Rappler’s editorial research team took matters into their own hands. Instead of relying on the government’s clunky platform, they cleaned, reorganized, and presented the flood control data in formats that actually make sense to the public. By grouping projects by province, clustering them into island groups, and creating interactive maps and searchable master tables, they restored clarity to what had been deliberately or carelessly obscured.

One of their most striking efforts involved overlaying flood control projects onto maps of flood-prone areas. This revealed not just the volume of projects but their relevance — or irrelevance — to the communities that need them most. With billions in taxpayer money at stake, the question is simple yet urgent: are these projects being built where they matter, or are funds merely being funneled to favored contractors?

The implications are massive. At the local level, the Department of Public Works and Highways awards contracts, construction firms execute them, and citizens bear the consequences — whether it means better protection from floods or the continued suffering caused by mismanaged funds. Nationally, patterns in spending can reveal favoritism, inefficiency, or outright corruption. Yet none of this can be meaningfully analyzed without accessible data.

This is why Rappler’s team, led by researchers and guided by editors like Miriam Grace Go, continues to dig deeper. Their principle is straightforward: the most valuable leads come from examining projects at the local level. After all, it is local citizens who can verify whether these flood-control structures exist at all, whether they are functional, and whether they serve their intended purpose.

For now, the government’s website stands as a cautionary tale: transparency in appearance, but not in substance. Without thoughtful design, even the noblest attempts at openness collapse into bureaucratic smokescreens. If citizen participation is truly the goal, then accessibility must be treated as a non-negotiable priority, not an afterthought.

As journalists and watchdogs step in to reframe the data, the hope is that citizens themselves will take part in scrutinizing the billions spent on flood control. Only then can the promise of accountability begin to match the rhetoric of transparency.

From ₱10 Billion to ₱31.6 Billion: When Napoles Was Just the Prologue

Wazzup Pilipinas!?

Once upon a time, we thought Janet Lim-Napoles and her ₱10-billion pork barrel scam was the highest form of treachery ever inflicted upon the Filipino people. She became the symbol of how deep corruption could run in government, using fake NGOs and ghost projects to siphon billions from the people’s coffers.

But Napoles, it turns out, was only Act I.

Today, under President Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr., Act II unfolds: the Discaya flood control empire. With ₱31.6 billion worth of government contracts tied to just one family, this scandal isn’t just bigger—it’s three times the size of Napoles’ plunder. And while the Discayas flaunt their luxury cars and palatial homes, ordinary Filipinos literally drown in floodwaters that those billions were supposedly meant to control.

Napoles: ₱10 Billion of Betrayal

During the Aquino administration, the Napoles PDAF scam shook the nation.

Billions meant for development were funneled into ghost beneficiaries and bogus NGOs. But for all its horror, there was accountability. Napoles was convicted of plunder and sentenced to reclusion perpetua. Senators Jinggoy Estrada, Bong Revilla, and Juan Ponce Enrile were indicted.

The Ombudsman investigated. The Commission on Audit (COA) scrutinized. The Sandiganbayan ruled.

Painful though it was, Napoles’ conviction proved that the system could still strike at the corrupt, no matter how powerful.

Discaya: ₱31.6 Billion, Flooding the Nation in Corruption

Fast forward to today. Reports show that nine companies linked to the Discaya family have cornered ₱31.6 billion in flood control projects since 2022.

That’s not pork—that’s the whole piggery.

Six percent of the nation’s flood control budget was funneled to a single family. And yet, every typhoon season, Filipino families remain submerged. Rivers supposedly “dredged” are still clogged. Ghost projects abound.

The insult? The Discayas flaunt their wealth in public while their kababayan wade chest-deep in water, their homes washed away by floods the billions were meant to prevent.

This isn’t governance. This is mockery.

The Law Is Clear

The law leaves no gray area.

The 1987 Constitution says: “Public office is a public trust.”

The Anti-Graft and Corrupt Practices Act punishes officials who grant unwarranted benefits.

The Plunder Law defines ill-gotten wealth of ₱50 million and above as plunder.

Napoles stole ₱10 billion. She was convicted.

Discaya’s haul? ₱31.6 billion. Three times bigger. And yet—no indictments, no arrests, no accountability.

If Napoles was plunder, Discaya is plunder on steroids.

Duterte’s Pharmally: The Blueprint for Impunity

The seeds of this impunity were sown during the Duterte years.

Pharmally Pharmaceutical, a tiny company with only ₱645,000 capitalization, bagged ₱11 billion in pandemic contracts. From overpriced face masks to expired test kits, billions vanished.

The Senate uncovered everything. But not a single Cabinet official was jailed. Duterte even barred his men from attending hearings. He shielded them.

That era taught the political elite a dangerous lesson: You can steal billions and still walk free.

Marcos Jr.’s Defining Test

Now the stage is set for Bongbong Marcos Jr.

Does he have the will to let the law strike at the Discayas? Will he direct the Ombudsman to investigate, the COA to blacklist, and the DPWH to clean house?

Or will he follow Duterte’s path—protecting plunderers, letting them laugh all the way to the bank while Filipinos drown like rats in their own homes?

This is Marcos Jr.’s litmus test. Fail it, and he cements his presidency not as reform, but as a continuation of impunity.

A Nation Drowning in Two Floods

We are drowning in water—and in corruption.

Napoles: ₱10 billion.

Pharmally: ₱11 billion.

Discaya: ₱31.6 billion.

Each scandal bigger, bolder, and more brazen. Each time, justice grows more elusive.

History’s Verdict

History has already spoken.

Napoles became the face of pork barrel plunder.

Duterte became the face of impunity.

Now, history waits for Bongbong Marcos Jr.

Will he rise to the challenge, proving he is not just another protector of thieves, by letting the law strike even the powerful? Or will he drown in history as the president who allowed ₱31.6 billion to vanish while his people drowned in floodwaters?

The choice is his. The nation is watching.

President Marcos, we dare you: punish the corrupt—or be remembered as the man who let the floodwaters of corruption wash away the future of the Filipino people.

When the Watchdogs Become the Watched: Calls for Lifestyle Checks on Journalists

Wazzup Pilipinas!?

For decades, the Fourth Estate has carried the sacred responsibility of keeping society informed and leaders accountable. Journalists are celebrated as watchdogs of democracy, tasked to shine a light on corruption, abuse of power, and excess. But what happens when the spotlight shifts toward them?

A growing chorus of voices now argues that journalists and broadcasters, like politicians, should also undergo lifestyle checks. After all, credibility is not just about what is said on air or written on paper — it is equally about how one lives off-camera.

The Whispered Truths of Paid Interviews

Behind the polished veneer of news programs and talk shows lies a murky world that insiders quietly acknowledge: the practice of “ex-deal” interviews. Exposure in exchange for money. A flattering feature in exchange for sponsorship. A story softened or killed entirely in exchange for favors.

It is no longer an open secret that some journalists and broadcasters profit not only from their salaries but from “sidelines” that compromise their impartiality. Reports persist of stories that mysteriously vanish after being teased, allegedly silenced by a timely payoff. Others claim interviews are pre-arranged advertisements masquerading as legitimate journalism.

When politicians are routinely grilled for corruption and hidden wealth, it is not unreasonable to ask: shouldn’t journalists — who hold the power to shape public perception — be held to the same standards?

The Case of Julius Babao

Few names stir as much intrigue as that of veteran broadcaster Julius Babao, a familiar face in Philippine media for more than three decades. Admired for his longevity and charisma, Babao has also been the subject of online debate for the sheer scale of his lifestyle.

His house, described by some as an art gallery more than a home, is filled wall-to-wall with priceless paintings — even bathrooms are not spared. His collection includes works from renowned masters like Olmedo, pieces that have skyrocketed in value over the years. Art experts note that artwork is among the easiest instruments for money laundering since prices are subjective and art does not depreciate.

Beyond canvases, Babao is also known for his rare motorcycle collection, luxury watches, and even limited-edition sneakers. To critics, the question is simple: how does a lifelong news anchor afford it all?

A Loyal Insider Speaks

Defenders, however, are quick to push back. One of Babao’s former personal assistants, who worked with him for a decade, paints a very different picture.

According to the insider, Babao’s wealth is neither sudden nor unexplained. The anchor reportedly began with modest beginnings, bought his first home through a bank loan, and only expanded after years of disciplined repayment. His wife, also a TV personality and entrepreneur, contributes through businesses like bazaars. They are not “biglang yaman” — their lifestyle, the insider insists, is the product of hard work, prudent investments, and a shared family hustle.

“People are so quick to judge without even knowing the truth,” the assistant said. “He has always lived clean and with integrity. Instead of tearing people down, why not appreciate the good they bring into this world?”

The Counterargument

Yet critics remain unconvinced. “Kindness is not the issue — integrity is,” one journalist countered. “Even if someone is pleasant to work with, it does not erase the public’s right to ask legitimate questions about transparency.”

Others recall that Babao himself has profiled personalities with rags-to-riches stories, framing them as inspirational. But when such narratives normalize ostentatious lifestyles amid the struggles of ordinary Filipinos, it sends a troubling message: that wealth without visible means is admirable rather than questionable.

“Imagine Maria Ressa doing the same interview,” a media veteran quipped. “Would she not ask the uncomfortable questions?”

Beyond One Man

The issue, of course, is bigger than Julius Babao. He is simply the most visible face in a broader debate about the ethics of Philippine media. For every journalist who toils honestly, there are whispers about “bad eggs” who bend stories, bury exposes, or act as paid mouthpieces.

Even insiders admit that dirty money has long flowed through parts of the industry, from politicians buying favorable coverage to corporations sponsoring “features” that blur the line between reporting and advertising.

A young journalist who quit after just three months in a newsroom recalls: “I could not stomach it. I realized some stories live or die depending on who pays. And yet, audiences are left thinking it’s all pure journalism.”

A Call for Transparency

In the end, the clamor is not about vilifying individual journalists but about demanding the same transparency from the media as they demand from politicians. If the public is asked to trust their reporting, then the public also has the right to understand how their lifestyles align with their earnings.

As one observer put it: “They scrutinize politicians, so now it’s their turn in the spotlight. If you have nothing to hide, then show it. Share openly how it truly is in and out of the newsroom.”

For journalism to retain its moral authority, credibility cannot stop at the newsroom door. The watchdogs of democracy must also prove they are not above the same scrutiny they impose on others.

Because in the end, democracy thrives not only on truth-telling — but on trust.