Another flood threatens to damage public trust, not of water, but of suspicion, silence, and systemic decay. The people of Pampanga, long accustomed to nature’s seasonal rage, now face a more dangerous flood: the slow erosion of accountability among those in power.
The recent exposé by Rappler highlights a troubling link between political family ties and exclusive contractual privileges. Leading the issue are Representative Anna York Bondoc-Sagum, San Luis Mayor Jayson Sagum, and Eddmari Construction and Trading, one of the top flood control contractors in the province. The concern isn’t just about associations but also about potential involvement in corruption. Who benefits when public projects are awarded to family businesses? Who bears the cost when flood control becomes a family affair?
The observant public notices a pattern that is hard to ignore. In a country where political families frequently dominate and procurement processes lack full transparency, the overlap of governance and business interests raises ongoing questions. Whether intentional or accidental, such overlaps invite scrutiny, not only for their local effects but also for what they reveal about systemic vulnerabilities across the country. The Bondoc-Sagum-Eddmari connection exemplifies a broader structural concern.
By its very nature, flood control is a matter of life and death. It is the safeguard between safety and disaster. When contracts for such vital infrastructure are awarded not based on merit but on bloodlines, the consequences are not just financial. They become existential. Every misused peso, every inferior project, and every delayed implementation betrays the people’s right to safety and dignity.
The defenders of the status quo will probably protest. They cite legality, reference paper trails, and accuse critics of political opportunism. But legality doesn’t equal morality. A contract can be legally valid and still be ethically wrong. The public needs more than just compliance; it needs integrity. And integrity requires transparency, not just technicalities.
Furthermore, the silence of oversight bodies is deafening. Where are the voices of the Department of Public Works and Highways? Where is the vigilance of the Commission on Audit? Where is the outrage of the House of Representatives’ own ethics committee? Their absence is not neutrality but reckless neglect. And neglect, in the face of potential corruption, amounts to complicity.
The people of Pampanga are not naive. They recognize the smell of patronage when it drifts through the floodplains. They have seen roads wash away with the first rains, dikes crumble under pressure, and budgets disappear like runoff. They understand that the public good is the first casualty when politics and profit unite.
But this moment presents a choice, a test for conscience. Will the nation continue to accept the incestuous ties between politics and business? Or will it demand a new standard that puts the public interest first, over private gain, and service before self-enrichment?
The Capampangans see the long arc of history bending toward justice, but only when driven by the people’s will. They know that silence is not neutrality but surrender. And they understand that the first step toward reform is having the courage to call out the corruption, expose the networks, and demand accountability.
The Bondoc-Sagum affair isn't just about one contractor or province. It challenges the heart of governance in the Philippines, questioning whether public office is still a public trust or has become a private enterprise in disguise.
This is no time for complacency. The merging of politics and profit erodes the core of transparent governance, and every moment of silence worsens the harm. If the nation does not act now, the wave of impunity will wipe out every piece of accountability. A dangerous force remains beneath the surface of polite denials and legal façades.
This force operates as an undercurrent.