President Ferdinand Marcos Jr.’s striking rebuke—“Mahiya naman kayo! (Shame on you)”—echoes louder than most political pronouncements in recent memory. Simple, raw, and deeply moral, the statement cuts deep through the usual noise surrounding corruption in government. It is a call for transparency and a direct appeal to conscience. And finally, it appears to be working.
The President’s remarks come amid mounting scrutiny over the anomalous use of public funds, particularly in flood control projects—a sector long riddled with inefficiency and suspicion.
In response, the House leadership is now calling for transparency in every layer of budget deliberation. It vowed to open every step of budget talks to the public, even planning to invite civil society watchdogs to witness the proceedings. Senators, too, are beginning to push harder for clear, honest dialogue in the allocation of national resources. A resolution has been filed, urging the opening of bicameral deliberations to the public.
But let us not be deceived. Words, no matter how powerful, are not enough.
Ending corruption, or minimizing it to the barest minimum, is a war fought on multiple fronts. While it’s encouraging that the three co-equal branches of government are slowly aligning toward transparency, real progress hinges on one thing—the genuine and unrelenting cooperation of everyone. From the President down to the barangay officials. From senators and congressmen to street vendors. From judges to janitors. Corruption thrives where apathy lives. It dies only in the presence of sustained public vigilance and a shared moral standard.
The Executive must continue to send a strong, unwavering message. It must ensure that every agency is held to account, not just through administrative reshuffles but through real investigations and prosecutions. Cabinet officials must lead by example, their actions mirroring the same sense of shame the President invokes.
The Legislative must stop being a breeding ground for patronage and pork. Each deliberation on the national budget must be open to scrutiny—not just by watchdogs, but by the very people whose lives depend on it. Lawmakers must abandon the notion that tradition justifies opaque budgeting and insertions. The people are watching, and they are angry about the ill-practices that have been going on through the years.
The Judiciary, long seen as the last bulwark against abuse, must prove that justice is for all. It must process corruption cases swiftly, decisively, and impartially. No more delays. No more impunity.
And yet, even that is not enough.
The truth is, corruption is not just a government problem. It is a societal cancer, one we have allowed to metastasize through silence and complicity. Every time we turn a blind eye to bribery, every time we choose convenience over ethics, we feed the very system we claim to despise.
Now is the time for a national awakening.
Citizens must demand transparency with the same fervor they demand relief. Civil society must empower whistleblowers, not shame them. Media must investigate and inform, not entertain and distract. Schools must teach not only facts, but values.
We are at a rare inflection point. The President’s public rebuke in his fourth State of the Nation Address has sparked something—perhaps outrage, perhaps hope. But it is not enough for it to flicker. It must burn.
Let this be the beginning of a culture that no longer tolerates theft from the public coffers. Let us build a nation where public service is sacred, and corruption is the ultimate betrayal—not just of law, but of fellow Filipinos.
“Mahiya naman kayo.” Indeed, if we feel no shame now, when will we ever be?