Finance Secretary Ralph Recto wasn’t just pointing out numbers when he said ghost flood control projects have bled the economy of up to P118.5 billion since 2023. He was exposing the scale of a rot that has become almost routine in Philippine governance: money that should have protected communities from rising floods has instead lined pockets.
The Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH) has long been notorious for its “flood control gold mine.” This year alone, it bagged over P900 billion, much of it supposedly for projects that would safeguard the country from climate disasters.
But the reality? Communities drown after a few hours of rain, rivers overflow, and coastal towns are left defenseless. The money, Recto admitted, is largely swallowed by corruption, with 25% to 70% of funds vanishing before a single shovel hits the ground.
Recto’s own math is damning: billions lost, up to 266,000 jobs never created, and growth stalled. The economy posted 5.5% in 2023 and 5.7% in 2024. He argues we could have hit 6% or higher if those funds weren’t wasted. That’s not just a percentage point—it’s families lifted from poverty, workers hired, and small businesses supported.
Instead, ghost projects mean ghost growth.
Flood of corruption, drought of accountability
President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. himself admitted that P100 billion of P545 billion in flood control funds since 2022 went to just 15 contractors. That is not inefficiency—it is collusion.
Among them: Omega & Alpha Construction and St. Timothy Construction, reportedly tied to former Pasig mayoral bet Sarah Discaya. The Bureau of Customs even raided the Discayas’ Pasig compound this week, looking for 12 luxury cars. Only two turned up. The rest? Vanished like the flood money.
Customs Commissioner Ariel Nepomuceno vowed to hunt them down, warning that anyone hiding the vehicles will face the “fullest extent of the law.” We’ve heard this before. In a country where corruption probes often drag on until the public forgets, promises of accountability ring hollow.
A cycle as old as politics
This is not just about missing billions. It is about the perverse economy of patronage. Flood control is one of the biggest slices of the budget pie. It is also one of the least scrutinized. Why? Because cement, gravel, and dredging are easy to inflate, projects can be declared “ongoing” without visible output, and—most conveniently—floods can always be blamed on nature.
This system doesn’t just drain the treasury—it drowns the people. Communities are left vulnerable to disasters that grow deadlier each year. Farmers lose harvests. Families lose homes. Workers lose jobs. And yet politicians gain campaign funds, contractors gain luxury cars, and the cycle continues.
The bottom line
Recto is right: wasted billions are wasted opportunities. But unless the Marcos government pushes beyond sound bites—unless big contractors and their political patrons are named, shamed, and prosecuted—this will be another scandal that fades away.
Floodwaters rise fast in the Philippines. Accountability, on the other hand, trickles slower than molasses. And until that changes, ghost projects will keep haunting the nation.
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