What does the current spasm in the body politic over the latest manifestations of corruption indicate but that the more things change, the more they remain the same? 

It wasn’t too long ago when such types as “Pogi,” “Sexy” and “Tanda” were hogging the news, having been accused of receiving ₱224.5 million, ₱183.8 million, and ₱172.8 million, respectively, in kickbacks from one Janet Lim Napoles, whose machinations involved funneling the three lawmakers’ pork barrel allocations to fictitious foundations supposedly set up to ameliorate poverty in the provinces. 

The scam exposed by the Inquirer in 2013 amounted to roughly ₱10 billion—a shocking amount at the time but now appearing like small change beside Sen. Panfilo Lacson’s exposé of over ₱1 trillion allocated in the past three years alone for the Department of Public Works and Highways’ flood control projects, which either crumbled to floodwaters or were quite simply nonexistent.

Congress is het up over the details that tumbled piecemeal from President Ferdinand Marcos Jr.’s list of 15 contractors that have apparently made flood projects their exclusive trough. (Earlier, in his State of the Nation Address in July, he drew a standing ovation with his “Mahiya naman kayo!” quip addressed to those grown fat on flood-control spoils and who may have been present straight-faced and applauding among the enthusiastic crowd.)

Social media is burning with indignation over the scandal du jour, singeing the nouveau riche getting their kicks in exhibitionism. After all, the brazenness of the “ghost” flood projects and of the exacting butchery of taxpayer money for kickbacks and commissions to various state officials is breathtaking. What has come to lurid light is the amassing of fantabulous wealth by contractor-couple Sarah and Curlee Discaya, blithely admitted to a “lifestyle interviewer” as having begun when they started doing business with the DPWH. And what Senate President Chiz Escudero derisively described as “malicious” mention of the contributions made to his election campaign by a contractor prominent in the President’s list has added more information on the matter at hand.

Yet these details reflecting the now sky-high wages of corruption in Philippine society, although loathsome, are hardly new. (“Nakakadiri”—repulsive—was Sen. Jinggoy Estrada’s own offended reaction to the pillagers’ ways, as though he had no idea that behind every great wealth is a great crime.) Administrations have come and gone but the dark space in which pillagers lurk have only become darker, deeper, more entrenched. The rot goes very far back, as when, for example, war reparations ensured the fortunes of certain operators for generations. It’s well known that even a military man could not break the customs cartel. And now, who knows exactly what the House of Representatives’ committee on appropriations has made possible in the annals of money-making?

Both chambers of Congress have announced plans to, as the jargon goes, get to the bottom of things. Earlier no-shows at the Senate inquiry are expected to heed the summonses announced signed by Escudero, and the blue ribbon committee chair, Sen. Rodante Marcoleta, is determined to push the inquiry despite his apparent impression that Lacson is stealing the thunder from him (since denied by Lacson).

At the House, the infrastructure committee (or “tricom”) is flexing muscle beginning on Tuesday. Not to appear cynical at this point when the wellspring of hope is nearing drought conditions, and begging the pardon of the tricom made up of Bicol Saro Rep. Terry Ridon (public accounts), Manila Rep. Joel Chua (good government and public accountability), and Surigao del Sur Rep. Romeo Momo (public works and highways), but the avowed mission to investigate some of their own may just brush the levels of absurdity. And it is not certain what Manuel Bonoan’s surrender of the public works portfolio would mean to the general effort. 

On his show “Story Outlook” last Saturday, the “propesor ng bayan” Ricky Rosales asked Ibon Foundation executive director Sonny Africa what else civil society could do to address the issue of corruption aside from making noise about it. Rosales’ general tone suggested a diminution of hope at ever taming this relentless beast (but then this viewer may merely have been reflecting on her own thinning reserves). 

By way of response, Africa said corruption had become “normalized”—not that, he hastened to add, he was blaming the victim (in this case, the Filipino people). He spoke of “cycles” and the wisdom of taking “the long view,” saying at one point that it is not only one issue that drives people to exploding point.  

The thing to do is to keep seeking important information from government officials and agencies, Africa said. (This sparked a thought in this viewer of the long and continuing search for information on how Vice President Sara Duterte’s more than ₱600 million in confidential funds were disbursed.) But he also spoke about Ibon’s wearying and often futile attempts to pry from these officials and agencies documents on, for example, the budget. “Something so basic as a feasibility study can’t even be accessed,” he lamented. 

(These documents are necessary for the nonprofit Ibon, founded in 1978 “to promote an understanding of socioeconomics that serves the interests and aspirations of the Filipino people,” to continue doing its work.)

How to make sense of, how to bring about accountability for, corruption? Rosales further asked.

Africa cited “two sides of the coin”—the sabwatan (collusion) of business people and those in power. Both are accountable but the burden is heavier on the latter, he said.

Remember that the people’s upheavals known as Edsa 1 (which toppled Ferdinand Marcos Sr.’s dictatorship) and Edsa 2 (which forced Joseph Estrada to quit the presidency) were primarily about corruption, Africa said. “Sobrang mahalaga ang information,” he said, stressing the utter significance of correct information to move the people to action.

Informed people strike fear in the hearts of corrupt politicians, said Africa: “Takot ang mga pulitiko sa komunidad.” 

Attentive observers may be moved to look back on Estrada’s case. As of Jan. 15, 2001, or a day before his impeachment trial came apart because of the senator-judges’ 11-10 vote not to open a second envelope believed to contain crucial evidence, the surveys showed the specific issues concerning the then president that most troubled Metro Manilans. 

These issues were, according to data compiled by then Inquirer Research head Minerva Generalao: that the economy broke down because of the loss of investors and business confidence in Estrada (35%); that he allegedly received jueteng projection money (31%); that he allegedly engaged in graft and corruption with public funds (23%); and that most of his friends and regular companions were alleged “cronies” and people who could not be trusted, and that he was allegedly immoral and had many families with different women (20%).

Estrada was eventually tried by the Sandiganbayan on charges of perjury and plunder. The antigraft court convicted him of plunder and sentenced him to life in September 2007. A month later, President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo pardoned him and restored his civil and political rights. 

And that was how it came down in what has been described as a rich country pretending to be poor.