Corruption Is Also Personal: When Power Protects the Corrupt, Who Protects the People?

Wazzup Pilipinas!? 

Corruption is never abstract. It is not some faceless monster lurking in government halls—it is personal. The faces are familiar, the names too obvious, the excuses too predictable. Yet the cruel irony is this: those who are corrupt never see themselves as corrupt. They convince themselves they are merely “playing the game,” “protecting interests,” or “doing what’s necessary.”

But the public is no longer fooled.

Matapos ang galit, ang kasalukuyang yugto ng taumbayan ay ito: pagiging mapagmatyag. Sino ang malinis at sino ang marumi? Sino ang credible at sino ang incredible? Sino ang nagsasabi ng totoo at sino ang nagsisinungaling? Sino ang karapat-dapat sa public trust, at sino ang nararapat itapon sa basurahan ng kasaysayan?

Magalong’s Resignation: A Warning Bell

The public’s bullshit meter exploded anew when Baguio City Mayor Benjamin Magalong resigned as adviser of the so-called Independent Commission for Infrastructure (ICI).

His words were cutting but clear:

“Combined with circumstances that already cast doubt on the independence of the Independent Commission for Infrastructure, it has become clear that my continued service is no longer tenable.”

In short, Magalong does not believe the Commission is independent. His withdrawal is not just a personal decision—it is an indictment of a Marcos administration that promised transparency but now finds itself drowning in its own contradictions.

When even a decorated officer and respected mayor refuses to lend his credibility to a commission meant to clean up corruption, what does that say about its integrity?

The Web of Names

Flood Control projects, mysterious billions, shadowy contractors, and a long list of names now entangled: Bernardo, Discaya, Brice Hernandez, Tagalong, ICI itself, Martin Romualdez, Marcoleta, Revilla, Jinggoy.

And at the center of the storm? Whispers of the “master magician” of the budget, Congressman Zaldy Co—enabled, allegedly, by no less than House Speaker Martin Romualdez, the President’s cousin.

Suspicion spread like wildfire. Yet instead of firm action, what do we see? Congressional interpellations, repetitive questions, political theater—when in truth, as one lawyer sharply asked, “Kung seryoso talaga ang imbestigasyon, bakit wala pang search warrants? Bakit hindi pa nase-secure ang mga ebidensiya?”

Instead of action, we see hesitation. Instead of justice, we see protection.

The Question of Complicity

Why the hesitation? Why the delays? Why the endless speeches?

Is the administration pumping the brakes because too many allies might get burned? Because this scandal, opened like Pandora’s Box, may have released more demons than the President anticipated?

Remember: it was Marcos Jr. himself who lit the fuse. But now that the explosion has reached his own cousin and powerful allies, is he retreating?

If he closes the box now, the stench of corruption will only grow stronger. If he lets it remain open, the rot of systemic theft may consume not just his presidency but the very institutions that still pretend to uphold democracy.

A Nation’s Betrayal

And here’s the bitter truth: this is not just about Bulacan. Sources whisper of similar stories in Tarlac, Pampanga, and other provinces across Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao. For every contractor, there is a politician. For every ghost project, there is a ghost of justice left unfulfilled.

Yet the hearings drag on. Witnesses are discredited for technicalities—like botching the notarization of an affidavit. Seriously? A simple notarization, and it still collapses? If this is the quality of “truth-seeking” we get, then no wonder the guilty sleep soundly.

What Do We Teach the Next Generation?

As one Rappler editor asked, what do these spectacles teach the youth?

That lying pays—as long as you are never caught.

That even if caught, money and connections will still buy you freedom.

That honesty doesn’t matter. Hard work doesn’t count. What counts is cunning, deceit, and power.

This is the moral crisis corruption brings. It erodes not just budgets, but the soul of a nation.

Where Do We Go From Here?

The Marcos administration owes the Filipino people more than half-hearted reforms and hollow words. It owes us a real investigation, ironclad cases filed in court, and systemic changes in how the budget is created and controlled.

Anything less is complicity. Anything less is betrayal.

Because corruption is not abstract. It is not distant. It is personal. And until this administration confronts the rot within its own circle, every promise of change remains a lie—paid for not by the corrupt, but by every Filipino robbed of a future.

Inspired from a Rappler editorial

Humility in the Face of Misunderstanding: When Good Intentions Are Misread

Wazzup Pilipinas!? 

Do you know what many fail to realize? That even when those of us in the media are given VIP access, pampered treatment, and privileges that sometimes make it seem as though doors open effortlessly—we are never above the law. We still line up for annual registrations, pay our taxes, comply with every regulation, and submit to the same procedures as every other citizen. Whether we’re paid to cover stories or doing it as a public service, we remain accountable—not exempt from scrutiny, not immune to criticism. And we should never be. Because every comment, whether small or scathing, helps us sharpen our craft and confront our shortcomings.

But accountability, as I have learned, also comes with humility.

When Raising a Concern Becomes a Misstep

The issue began with something seemingly trivial: the distribution of Bingo cards and the lack of effective communication among the unit owners of our building. What I intended was simple—to give notice of a faulty system so that the community could learn, improve, and prevent similar lapses in the future. It was never meant to insult, demean, or belittle. It was a call to do better.

Yet intentions, however pure, can be misinterpreted.

My words, sharpened by years of writing boldly against government inefficiency and systemic neglect, were not tempered for the sensitivity of a small community. What may sound like constructive critique in the public arena sounded harsh, even ungrateful, in this private space. And so, what began as an attempt to highlight a flaw was instead received as an attack.

Volunteers—those who carried the load of organizing without pay—retaliated by pointing out that unlike government officials, they were merely offering their time and effort for free. That they did not deserve criticism of their capabilities.

The irony is not lost on me. My letter, meant as an act of responsibility and a step toward better communication, was viewed as an offense. And so, in humility, I step back.

Choosing Humility Over Defensiveness

Let me be clear: there was nothing wrong with my intention. To call out a lapse in communication is not to dishonor volunteers, but to strengthen the community. Still, I take ownership of the fact that my tone was misaligned with the setting.

Instead of being defensive, I choose humility. I choose to admit that I failed to “read the room.” I choose to acknowledge that what I thought was clarity was heard as criticism. And though my frustration was valid, my delivery fell short.

I stand with those who say we must be role models. We gain nothing from counterattacks, from throwing back words at critics as though our positions make us untouchable. If I sounded ungrateful, it was never my intent. It was simply my burden speaking—one that my own wife, who also volunteers despite her demanding work, has had to carry too.

The Larger Lesson

For over a decade, my style as a writer has been bold, direct, and unyielding. It has worked when addressing public officials, government agencies, and national concerns. But here, in this shared space, I must adapt.

And that is the lesson. Leadership and responsibility are not about always being right—they are about knowing when to bend, when to listen, and when to humble oneself, even if the intention was never wrong in the first place.

Moving Forward

So I say this, not as an apology for having good intentions, but as a recognition that humility sometimes matters more than being right. Moving forward, I will strive to be more mindful, more sensitive, and more constructive.

If ever I stumble again, I ask that you remember this: my words may sometimes be imperfect, but my purpose has always been clear—to help build, not break; to strengthen, not divide; to lift this community we all share.

Because at the end of the day, accountability is not just about answering for mistakes—it is also about choosing humility, even when you know your intentions were never wrong.

Abante Radyo Breaks Silence: Issues Official Apology Over Heated On-Air Clash with Sen. Rodante Marcoleta

Wazzup Pilipinas!? 

In the ever-tense landscape of Philippine broadcasting, the boundary between free expression and responsible journalism is constantly tested. Recently, Abante Radyo found itself at the center of a controversy following a fiery exchange between the host of its program Parekoy, a blocktimer, and Sen. Rodante Marcoleta.

The incident quickly rippled across the airwaves and social media, sparking debates about professionalism, press freedom, and the ethical responsibilities of broadcasters. In response, Abante Radyo has released an official statement, taking accountability while clarifying its position on the matter.

“Ang Abante Radyo ay taos-pusong humihingi ng paumanhin sa naging mainit na talakayan at palitan ng salita sa pagitan ng host ng programang Parekoy… at ni Sen. Rodante Marcoleta sa nasabing panayam.”

The statement underscored that while the remarks made during the program reflected the personal views of the blocktimer involved, they should not be construed as the official stance of Abante Radyo.

“Ang mga pananaw at pahayag ng aming mga blocktimer ay kanilang personal na opinyon at hindi awtomatikong sumasalamin sa opisyal na paninindigan ng Abante Radyo,” the network emphasized.

Journalism in the Crossfire

This apology comes at a time when Philippine media continues to grapple with questions of credibility, transparency, and accountability. Blocktiming—where individuals or groups buy airtime to host their own programs—has long been a common practice in local radio. While it provides opportunities for diverse voices to be heard, it also creates potential risks, as hosts are not always directly bound by the network’s editorial standards.

In defending its integrity, Abante Radyo reiterated its commitment to fairness, justice, and balance in reporting, stressing that its mission remains rooted in the highest standards of journalistic ethics:

“Patuloy kaming naninindigan sa aming tungkulin na maghatid ng patas, makatarungan, at balanseng pamamahayag, alinsunod sa pinakamataas na pamantayan ng etika sa pamamahayag.”

The Larger Implications

The clash with Sen. Marcoleta, a figure known for his combative stance on issues such as ABS-CBN’s franchise denial, is more than just an isolated incident. It highlights the ongoing tension between media practitioners and political figures in the Philippines. It also reignites public discourse on the responsibility of broadcasters to moderate discussions—especially when debates become heated—to avoid blurring the line between passionate discourse and unprofessional conduct.

For media outlets like Abante Radyo, the challenge is twofold: to uphold the values of free speech and open dialogue, while ensuring that these conversations remain respectful, fact-based, and in line with journalistic ethics.

A Call for Reflection

Abante Radyo’s statement is not merely an apology—it is a reminder of the delicate balance media institutions must strike in an era where every slip of the tongue can go viral. It also underscores the urgent need for networks to enforce stricter safeguards in blocktiming arrangements, ensuring that program hosts—whether staff or independent—adhere to responsible broadcasting.

The incident with Sen. Marcoleta serves as a cautionary tale, not just for Abante Radyo but for the entire broadcasting industry. At its core, it is a test of media’s role as the fourth estate: to inform, to challenge, but also to respect the standards that preserve its credibility.

As Abante Radyo moves forward from this controversy, one thing is clear: the public expects accountability, fairness, and integrity—qualities that remain the lifeblood of a truly independent press.