IN 2025, our community faced calamities of a different kind. Dagupan City and the province of Pangasinan were battered by a series of devastating typhoons that unleashed deadly floods. Lives were risked, livelihoods destroyed, and the poor—once again—were pushed deeper into hardship. The damage appeared incalculable, but amid the devastation, there was one small consolation: no human life was lost.

Dagupan was placed under a state of calamity three times in a single year. The city has long suffered as the catch basin of runoff waters cascading from the Cordillera mountains, a vulnerability made worse later by storm surges spawned by a super typhoon. These are not new problems; they are recurring tragedies.

The suffering was not confined to Dagupan or Pangasinan. Practically the entire nation felt the wrath of floods that, in some areas, lingered for days. This happened despite billions of pesos poured into flood control projects over the years. Instead of protecting communities, these projects failed spectacularly, allowing floodwaters to spill into residential neighborhoods and even business districts. The question that echoed across the country was simple yet damning: where did all the money go?

Appalled by the wanton devastation and the apparent absence—or utter uselessness—of flood control structures, President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. sensed that something was gravely amiss. In his State of the Nation Address, he did what many leaders before him hesitated to do: he called out those responsible. His stinging rebuke—“Mahiya naman kayo” (Have a little shame)—struck a national nerve.

That statement triggered a massive probe into ghost and substandard flood control projects. The investigation has since implicated contractors, officials of the Department of Public Works and Highways, and lawmakers who allegedly received kickbacks from non-existent or grossly inferior projects they managed to insert into past national budgets. These revelations confirmed what flood-stricken communities had long suspected: corruption, not nature alone, drowned their homes and hopes.

Some contractors and DPWH officials have already been charged by the Office of the Ombudsman for plunder and are spending their Christmas behind bars. These are welcome developments, but they are far from enough. The so-called “big fish” in this murky mess—the powerful architects and beneficiaries of systemic corruption—remain scot-free.

The investigation is still ongoing, and it must be pursued relentlessly. Floods may be acts of nature, but the scale of destruction we witnessed was largely man-made. Corruption turned heavy rains into humanitarian disasters. It stole not only public funds but also the safety, dignity, and future of countless Filipinos.

As we remember our esteemed Publisher Ermin Garcia Jr., mentor, father, and brother to all of us in The PUNCH, who died in 2025, we are reminded of his fearless journalism and his intolerance for the abuse of power. The best tribute we can offer him is to continue speaking truth to power, to demand accountability, and to stand with the people who bear the brunt of greed and neglect. #