Colonial Shadows and the Roots of Corruption in the Philippines
- Cyberwatch UNLTD
- Oct 19
- 5 min read
Corruption in the Philippines is a deeply rooted, self-perpetuating cycle. People get angry, scandals make headlines, but nothing truly changes. The poor get poorer, the rich—especially those in power—get richer, and accountability slowly fades into silence.
Part of this dysfunction can be traced back to the legacy of Spanish colonization. In order to survive under foreign rule, many Filipinos were forced to adopt imposed values, often at the cost of their own cultural identity. That said, I'm not necessarily placing blame—but rather acknowledging the historical forces that have shaped the present.
Colonial power structures were built on racism and domination, compelling Filipinos to conform, obey, and internalize foreign systems of governance and social hierarchy. One of the lasting consequences is the normalization of corruption—particularly in politics. Today, many politicians seek office not to serve the public, but to accumulate wealth and maintain power—frequently at the people’s expense.
So how did we get here? And more importantly, why is it so hard to get out?
Colonial Legacy and Internalized Systems
Colonization didn’t just take land and labor—it reshaped identity, values, and institutions.
Under Spanish rule, a rigid racial caste system took root: peninsulares at the top, followed by insulares, mestizos, and finally, indios. This hierarchy embedded toxic beliefs that still linger:
Obedience was rewarded
Resistance was punished
“Foreign = superior” and “Local = inferior” became ingrained in education, religion, government, and even self-perception
These colonial mentalities didn’t vanish with independence. They were passed down—sometimes invisibly—through generations, institutions, and systems that continue to shape Filipino society today.
Corruption as a Post-Colonial Symptom
Corruption in the Philippines is not just about personal greed or individual failure. It’s also a structural outcome of colonial rule and elite power consolidation.
During both the Spanish and American periods, power and wealth were concentrated in the hands of a small elite. After independence, those same power structures were preserved, just under new leadership. Political dynasties flourished, and many of them trace their influence—and even land ownership—back to colonial privilege.
In this system, corruption becomes normalized when:
Institutions are weak
Justice is selective
Citizens feel powerless
Cultural values like pakikisama (getting along) and utang na loob (debt of gratitude) are exploited by the powerful
These are not inherently bad values, but in a distorted system, they’re often manipulated to preserve the status quo.
Systemic Corruption: Not Just a Series of Bad Actors
Many people hesitate to say it out loud—but it’s the truth: corruption in the Philippines isn’t just about a few bad individuals. It’s a system.
Even when reforms are introduced—transparency initiatives, citizen oversight groups, anti-corruption laws—they often collide with real-world risks and structural barriers.
Why Anti-Corruption Efforts Often Fail (Even with Good Intentions)
Barrier | What Actually Happens |
Fear of retaliation | Citizens and whistleblowers stay silent out of fear of job loss, harassment, or violence. |
Co-opted watchdog groups | Some "citizen-led" groups are secretly backed or influenced by the very officials they’re supposed to monitor. |
Lack of protection | Whistleblowers often receive no legal or physical protection, making their efforts dangerous and unsustainable. |
Culture of silence | Walang pakialaman (“mind your own business”) becomes the norm, and corruption is accepted as part of life. |
Transactional politics | Politicians use public funds for patronage—giving out favors, money, or positions to secure loyalty. |
Weak law enforcement | Even when complaints are filed, cases drag on for years—by then, the issue is forgotten, or the accused is re-elected. |
The feeling that corruption is baked into the system is not an imagination. This isn’t just about greed; it’s about a political economy where:
Money = Power
Power = Immunity
Silence = Survival
It becomes self-reinforcing: those in power control the very institutions meant to hold them accountable. So even well-intentioned reforms struggle to survive—let alone succeed.
So What Can Work?
There are no easy fixes, but some strategies have shown promise in countries fighting systemic corruption:
Independent media and access to public information
Scandals can only break if the truth can’t be buried. Civic tech tools (e.g., open budget trackers) help, but need support and legal protection.
Whistleblower protections with real power
Not just symbolic laws—actual protection funds, relocation programs, legal defense, and counseling.
Citizen coalitions, not just individuals
Lone voices are easily silenced. But networks of journalists, lawyers, youth, religious groups, and civil society organizations are harder to intimidate.
Decentralized, participatory budgeting
When local communities are actively involved in planning and tracking budgets (as in Naga City’s model), there's greater transparency—if shielded from political interference.
International watchdogs and legal partnerships
Sometimes, foreign courts or global institutions (e.g., US DOJ investigations) hold more leverage than domestic bodies compromised by politics.
The Vicious Cycle Continues
History gives us painful examples of how systemic corruption repeats itself—just in different forms:
The Marcos Regime (1965–1986): Massive wealth stolen, rampant cronyism, and widespread human rights abuses. Yet today, the Marcos family is back in power.
The Pork Barrel Scam (2013): Billions in public funds were funneled through fake NGOs linked to Janet Napoles, using the Priority Development Assistance Fund (PDAF). Public outrage was intense, but accountability remained limited. Only a handful were convicted, and systemic reform stalled.
The Flood Control Project Scandal (2022–2025): Over ₱545 billion was spent on nearly 10,000 flood-control projects—many of which were later flagged as substandard, incomplete, or outright fake (“ghost projects”). Investigations revealed that huge kickbacks—up to 20% or more—were allegedly funneled to lawmakers and officials.
A senator described the scheme as “worse than the pork barrel scam.”
As with PDAF, a small group of favored contractors received the bulk of funds, raising red flags about political collusion.
Recurring COA Reports: From disaster relief to education to healthcare, government audits repeatedly show misuse or misallocation of funds—with little to no follow-through. Most reports fade from public memory without justice or reform.
Each of these scandals follows a familiar script: public money diverted, temporary outrage, slow (or no) accountability—and then silence. The names change, the mechanisms evolve, but the system remains intact. And that’s the problem.
Speaking Out Is a Form of Care
It’s tempting to stay quiet. But silence only strengthens the system. Fighting corruption can start small. It can mean:
Supporting investigative journalists
Voting with awareness—even when it's risky
Teaching young people about integrity and civic responsibility
Uplifting whistleblowers, instead of isolating them
Demanding accountability consistently—not just when it’s trending
Anti-corruption work needs the same passion and momentum we give to other justice movements. It requires collective energy, not just occasional outrage.
Truth-Telling Is the First Step Toward Transformation
If you’ve ever felt frustrated, disillusioned, or even hopeless about corruption in the Philippines—you’re not alone. And you’re not wrong.
The truth is: the system is designed to protect itself.
But cracks do appear—when the public refuses to stay silent, when institutions are pushed from the outside, and when brave people come together instead of standing alone.
Speaking out against corruption in your own country isn’t a sign of shame. It’s a sign of care.
It’s a form of love for country that demands better, and refuses to look away.
History left deep wounds. But awareness is the beginning of healing—and of reclaiming something better.
Related Post: Reclaiming Pakikisama To Its Core: Bayanihan
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