President Ferdinand Marcos Jr.—with voice cracking and eyes glistening—declared in a recent podcast a reality as old as corruption itself: “Well, no one is going to admit that they’re connected to this, right? Not anyone. So, they won’t inhibit themselves.” This declaration sent shockwaves in both the halls of power and the homes of ordinary Filipinos.

That rare moment of vulnerability revealed more than the frustration of a leader. It peeled back the rotting facade of a bureaucracy long numbed by impunity, self-preservation, and a system that rewards silence more than courage.

But let us not mistake emotion for weakness. In that honest confession lies a spark—a dangerous, necessary fire that, if nurtured, could burn away decades of rot.

President Marcos has drawn a line. His campaign to root out anomalies in flood control projects—long considered a cesspool of kickbacks, ghost contracts, and pay-to-play schemes—is just the beginning. His campaign, we believe, is not focused mainly on clogged drains and disappearing funds. More than that, this campaign is about the sickness that floods our institutions with dishonesty and dries up the nation’s faith in governance.

Yet as he pushes forward, let us remind the President and ourselves: Accountability must exempt no one.

Yes, no one.

From Cabinet secretaries who sign off on questionable budget proposals, to lawmakers who carve out pet projects under the guise of public service, to engineers who look the other way, to local officials who pocket scraps meant for relief, the businessmen who offer a bribe to fast-track a permit, down to the law-abiding officials and ordinary Filipinos who merely watch the raid of our national coffers—we are all part of this cancer, and we must all be part of the cure.

This is not Marcos’ sole uphill climb. It is ours. And it is steep, slippery, and littered with the bodies of past reformers who dared to challenge the status quo only to be silenced, co-opted, swallowed by the system, or forgotten.

So what now?

If the President is serious—and his tears are not just a performance but a prelude to relentless pursuit—then he must prepare for war. Not with the opposition. Not with whistleblowers. But with the untouchables in his own backyard. His family’s legacy casts a long and controversial shadow; this is his moment to step out of it—not only with declarations, but with deeds.

Cleanse the nation and stop the raid of the national coffers, Mr. President. But do it with clean hands. Do it with transparency. Do it with justice, not selective outrage. Do it without fear or favor, even if it means prosecuting your allies, losing political capital, or alienating the very people who once cheered you on.

Because the Filipino people deserve more than floods that rise every monsoon. We deserve the cleansing rain of real change. We deserve leaders who are not just tearful, but tireless in their duty. We deserve a nation where flood control funds build barriers against water—not monuments to corruption.

Will this end well for the country?

Only if we decide, today, that no one is innocent until proven otherwise—and even then, that innocence must be earned through transparency, not merely claimed through denial.

This is the President’s fight. But it is ours, too. For in the wreckage of exposed corruption lies the promise of something long denied to us: redemption. And in redemption, the quiet, unwavering hope that we might finally be free from the clutches of corruption.