A toxic political storm is brewing, and it threatens to tear the nation’s fragile trust in its leaders to shreds. On one side, a colossal flood control scandal has erupted, painting a picture of systemic corruption so deep it reaches the highest levels of government. On the other, a bitter power struggle unfolds as the Office of the Vice President fights to justify its existence against a seemingly hostile Congress. Caught in the middle is the Filipino public, drowning in a deluge of contradictory narratives, political theater, and the grim reality of a system that feels hopelessly broken.

The saga began with what looked like a heroic act. President Marcos, addressing a string of devastating floods, famously declared, “Mahiya naman kayo” (“Shame on you”), seemingly directing his ire at corrupt officials. He formed an Inter-Agency Committee (ICI) to investigate and even named five major construction firms allegedly cornering the projects. Online, his supporters, dubbed “the three monkeys” by one furious critic, hailed him as a champion, the man brave enough to expose the rot.

But this heroic narrative is collapsing under scrutiny. Critics are firing back with a simple, devastating question: How can the president be the hero when he allegedly caused the problem? They point to the 2025 national budget, which the president signed despite widespread warnings that it was loaded with problematic unprogrammed appropriations. “If he had not signed the 2025 budget, we wouldn’t be talking about this flood issue,” one commentator declared, arguing that the 2023 and 2024 budgets had already been “butchered” by a House of Representatives led by the president’s own cousin.

This counter-narrative paints the president’s “shame on you” moment not as an act of integrity, but as a desperate PR pivot. Critics claim that only after his initial excuses—that flood control systems were “overwhelmed” or that it was “climate change”—failed to stick did he adopt the posture of a corruption-fighter. With the 2025 midterm elections looming, the performance of a lifetime was needed, both to distance himself from the scandal and to secure a narrative for the upcoming campaign.

As the political theater plays out in the capital, the alleged mastermind of the scheme, Congressman Saldico, has fled the country. His lawyer cites “serious threats” to his life, a claim that political analysts are taking very seriously. The consensus is that Saldico is just a middleman, a cog in a much larger machine. If he and his two assistants, Paul Estrada and Mark Texay, who have also reportedly left the country, are permanently silenced, the true “scheme” may die with them.

This scheme, many fear, is far bigger than just the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH). Whispers from figures like Sergeant Gotesa, who alleges weekly cash deliveries, suggest a systemic, organized plunder of public funds. The public and political commentators alike are unified in one belief: this does not end with Saldico. The trail, they insist, must lead to “higher-ups,” a term often spoken with a nervous glance toward the Office of the Speaker.

The investigation itself has become a source of deep suspicion. The ICI, formed by the president, is only now calling for an investigation into former DPWH Secretary Manuel Bonoan. This has raised alarms, as Bonoan was allowed to resign quietly and was never recalled to the Senate Blue Ribbon hearings after the scandal’s initial exposure. It feeds a growing suspicion that the investigation is a “slow walk” designed to fail.

Legal experts have pointed out the glaring flaws: announcing a high-profile investigation before freezing assets with the Anti-Money Laundering Council (AMLA) or coordinating with other countries to cancel visas is not a hunt; it’s a warning. It gives the guilty time to move their money and disappear. Saldico’s lawyer, Rui Rondain, is already exploiting this, correctly stating that with no formal case filed, there are no legal grounds to cancel his client’s passport. The administration, it seems, is being outmaneuvered, leaving the public to wonder if it’s due to incompetence or intention.

While this drama of corruption and ineptitude consumes the administration, a separate battle is being waged by the country’s second-highest official. The Office of the Vice President (OVP), led by Sara Duterte, is in a fight for its political and financial survival. As the OVP prepares to celebrate its 90th anniversary—even extending an invitation to former Vice President Leni Robredo—it is grappling with a hostile House.

In a stunning move on the plenary floor, a motion by Congresswoman Layla de Lima to cut the OVP’s proposed 903 million peso budget back down to its current 733 million was approved. An OVP spokesperson, Attorney Ruth, put on a brave face, stating they would “live with it” but that the larger budget would have served many more people.

The OVP is facing sharp criticism that its core programs—such as medical and burial assistance, disaster relief, and tree planting—are redundant, duplicating the work of established agencies like the DSWD and DOH. The host of one program even recalled how VP Leni Robredo was stripped of her cabinet post for allegedly “attacking” the president after meetings, implying a history of fraught relationships between the two offices.

But the OVP’s defense is one of augmentation. Attorney Ruth explained that the OVP coordinates directly with local government units to identify gaps, often taking on the “hardest to reach” and most remote areas that other agencies have not yet served. They insist they are not replacing but supplementing, providing essential services where they are needed most.

This defense, however, is being championed by the same commentators who are eviscerating the president. In a moment of stark contrast, one critic, after spending an hour insulting the president’s supporters, praised Vice President Duterte as the “only sincere government official” working today.

The Philippines is now a nation of split-screens. On one screen, a chaotic investigation into a scandal that seemingly implicates the investigators themselves. On the other, the quiet, methodical building of a parallel social service structure by a Vice President who is increasingly seen as a separate, and perhaps rival, center of power.

The public is left to untangle the web. They are told to believe in an investigation that appears designed to let the guilty escape, while being asked to fund a Vice President’s office that Congress is actively trying to defund. As the 2025 midterms draw closer, the question of who is truly serving the people and who is simply putting on a show has never been more urgent.