The passage of the proposed ₱6.793‑trillion national budget for 2026 in the House of Representatives is Congress’ wager for redemption more than an annual undertaking. In an era still stained by the specter of the anomalous flood‑control projects and murky budget insertions, this bold spending framework offers a chance to heal the breach between state and citizen, to show that politics need not be a game of hidden agendas but a covenant of service.

When the controversy over questionable flood control projects erupted, public outrage was not merely about money lost; it was betrayal felt deep into the bones. It was the anguish of countless Filipinos who have long suspected that public funds means “special interests.” The damage was not just fiscal; it was moral. Today, amid skepticism, Congress must show that it has learned that every peso bears a human story.

Speaker Faustino “Bojie” Dy III calls this budget “the first step toward a transparent budget.” Under this version, “nothing was hidden, nothing kept secret,” and “there is no other goal but to ensure that every peso of our citizens’ taxes returns to them in the form of opportunity, service, and hope.” This assurance matters. In a single, crisp commitment he frames not just an accounting reform but a moral imperative: the people’s money is for the people. To fulfill that promise, this budget must be lived, not just passed.

How then can this be the budget that redeems Congress?

First—through visible, traceable processes. The creation of a Budget Amendments and Revisions Sub‑Committee (BARSc), with its proceedings livestreamed, is a crucial innovation. This is more than optics: it opens the crucible of deliberation to public view. When citizens can see the trade‑offs, the realignments, the debates—then the shadows shrink. In past years, such debates were hidden in closed sessions. Now, they must be held where light can reach.

Second—by zeroing in on public priorities rather than pet projects. In the House version of the budget, ₱255 billion originally earmarked for flood control projects was realigned—40 percent of it—into basic services like education, social assistance, and state universities.

That reallocation matters. It signals that when a sector is exposed as dubious, the default is to return funding to urgent human needs—not to protect privileged pathways.

Third—by sharpened accountability during implementation. The proof of a transparent budget is not just in open hearings, but in audits, tracking, and consequences. Every implementing agency must publish quarterly reports, and civil society and independent media must have teeth to demand explanations when funds lag or diverge. There can be no façade of transparency without teeth.

Fourth—by restoring faith through tangible benefits. A budget is not a pledge until the people see it translate into classrooms rebuilt, clinics staffed, farmers aided, roads resilient to typhoons. The rhetoric of integrity must become reality in opportunity, service, hope.

If this spending plan succeeds, it begins to restore the people’s trust. Why? Because trust is not earned by grand speeches or press releases. Trust is rebuilt when the people themselves see processes open, see shifting allocations guided by need not influence, and see accountability enforced. This budget can begin to turn the perennial question—“where did my taxes go?” and “how will my life improve because of it?”

If this budget is honest—not because it is perfect, but because it is lived honestly—then it redeems not just Congress, but democracy itself. It restores the fragile contract between citizen and state: that taxes are not a toll paid to predators, but a capital invested in shared futures.

The proposed 2026 budget is no ordinary outlay. It is a test. And we hope it may pass.