Corruption in the Philippines: a historical legacy

Corruption, simply put, is when someone in power uses their position for personal gain --through bribes, favors, or abuses of authority. This is the face of corruption in the Philippines. People know the who the culprits are --what the public calls the “crocodiles” and “kawatans” of government-- but proving guilt in a civilized society is another matter. Recently, President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. named the top 15 contractors cornering billions in flood control projects. The Senate has also opened an investigation, though whether it leads to convictions or becomes just another footnote in the fight against corruption remains to be seen.

History shows that corruption in the Philippines has deep roots; from the pre-conquest barangays to Spanish and American rule, it has been both a symptom of weak institutions and a barrier to nation-building. Before colonization, local leaders settled disputes, collected tribute, and defended their people, but their judgments were often arbitrary. Jose Endriga, a UP professor, noted that this overlap of authority and personal power opened the door to abuse.

The Spanish colonial period is often equated with corruption. Offices were openly bought and sold, turning governance into business. Officials treated posts as investments to be recouped through bribes, fees, and monopolies. Colonial contradictions fueled the abuse. On paper, Spain promised Christianization and protection of natives. In practice, it demanded maximum revenue. Bureaucrats had wide discretion, and expediency usually triumphed over lofty ideals. Thus, the native elites became complicit. Appointed as gobernadorcillos and cabezas de barangay, they carried out tribute collection and forced labor. Poorly paid, they resorted to exploiting their own communities, turning the once-respected leaders into petty tyrants, caught between colonial masters and their people, laying the groundwork for grassroots corruption that persists today.

Jose Rizal was one of corruption’s sharpest critics. Rizal noted that corruption was more than administrative failure --it was a moral crisis undermining the Filipino nation. He described friars and officials wielding arbitrary power. Taxes rose in good harvests but never decreased in bad years. Bribes were common for permits, favors, and even justice. Most had to bribe “the tyrants” just to live peacefully.

Public works revealed corruption as schools and hospitals built with forced labor were misused or abandoned. Local politics was equally tainted --gobernadorcillo elections were manipulated by friars, principales, and governors to favor their candidates. The office itself bred abuse, with officials embezzling funds and altering military drafts to protect relatives. Even the 1893 Maura reform failed to stop these practices.

The Americans introduced reforms at the turn of the 20th century. Professional civil service, better compensation, and stricter accountability reduced corruption compared to Spanish times. Yet, patronage and informal exchanges persisted beneath new institutions. Corruption was less overt but remained part of political life, inherited from centuries of colonial practice. The story of corruption in the Philippines is not only about individual greed but about historical structures. Rizal’s writings show that corruption is a moral crisis that erodes trust and dignity, which our colonial systems institutionalized from the top to the grassroots.

The late senator Joker Arroyo remains the only Filipino politician who consistently refused to use his pork barrel --whether PDAF, AKAP, or any other form of discretionary funds. Senator Panfilo Lacson has also been noted for actively refusing or returning such allocations. Building roads, schools, hospitals, and other projects is the job of the executive branch through agencies like DPWH, DepEd, or DOH. Congress only sets the budget, while the executive implements it. When legislators use pork barrel funds to run projects, they assume an executive role --something the Constitution does not allow.

This explains why corruption remains so resilient today. But Rizal’s call still resonates: the struggle against corruption is not just about governance but about nation-building itself.