‘The public’s right to truth outweighs a politician’s right to secrecy.’
WHEN floodwaters rise, the truth must not go under.
Since their names surfaced in a House hearing this week, Senators Jinggoy Estrada and Joel Villanueva have denied pocketing cuts from dubious flood-control projects in Bulacan. A former DPWH assistant district engineer, Bryce Hernandez, testified that they took as much as 30 percent from contracts in 2023.
Estrada has dared his accuser to take a lie-detector test; Villanueva insists he never meddled in flood management projects. Yet denial is not enough. Public officials who cry innocence to the heavens must demonstrate it to the people they serve.
The path is clear: publish your Statement of Assets, Liabilities and Net Worth (SALN), and sign a waiver on bank secrecy. Open your accounts to the Anti-Money Laundering Council and the Ombudsman. Let independent investigators match deposits with project timelines. This is not an act of harassment; it’s a fundamental requirement of accountability, especially for a public that has suffered from both natural disasters and official malfeasance.
The scandal of greed and corruption goes beyond two names. In Senate hearings, contractor-witnesses revealed a 25 percent “standard cut” demanded by House members and DPWH officials. Billions of pesos meant to shield communities from disaster were siphoned off even before a single bag of cement was poured. The result: ghost projects, crumbling dikes and neighborhoods left defenseless against the deadly monsoon.
This culture of plunder endures because accountability ends at the microphone.
Officials make a public denial, point fingers at others, and the cycle continues. The people involved in this racket must prove their innocence with a signature, not just a soundbite.
Waivers on bank secrecy should be required not only of Estrada and Villanueva, but of all the ravenous ones: lawmakers, DPWH officials, and contractors named in hearings.
Uniform transparency levels the field. Those who have nothing to hide should have nothing to fear. Even presidents and Cabinet secretaries must voluntarily execute waivers in corruption probes. The public’s right to the truth outweighs a politician’s right to secrecy. To resist is to invite suspicion that the rot runs deeper than what is being exposed.
The scandal has already frozen DPWH bidding for flood-control projects, jeopardizing real defenses against climate risk. Communities cannot wait for another monsoon to expose hollow embankments. Transparency is about saving lives and restoring trust.
If Estrada and Villanueva truly have no hand in this racket, they can prove it with a signature. And if other contractors, officials, and legislators swear innocence, they too must put pen to paper.
A claim of innocence must be borne with truth and conviction—enough to calm a nation bruised and battered by greed and corruption.
