“Mahiya Naman Kayo” (Have Shame). President Marcos’ anti- corruption slogan echoes through the halls of congress, but does it resonate in a nation where billions are lost annually to graft and corruption? Or is it a carefully crafted performance to restore his family’s image? Corruption in the Philippines is no stranger to public discourse—it is a persistent blight undermining governance, economic progress, and social trust. In his recent State of the Nation Address, President Bongbong Marcos has elevated the anti-corruption campaign to a centerpiece of his political agenda. Drawing on my experience as an academician and a and steward of public service, I believe it’s essential to carefully examine this initiative from all angles, balancing praise with constructive criticism to truly understand its effects.
To start with, it is encouraging to see an administration place anti-corruption at the forefront. The article “Together With President Marcos, We Will Defeat Corruption,” penned by Dr. Jose Antonio Goitia, embodies this positive spirit. It calls for collective action and unity, emphasizing that corruption cannot be uprooted by a single leader or institution. Instead, it demands a partnership among the government, civil society, private sectors, and citizens. This holistic approach is a necessary foundation because corruption thrives in systemic environments where multiple actors collude or turn a blind eye. However, while the Marcos administration’s anti-corruption drive presents a hopeful vision of unity and reform, its effectiveness remains questionable without addressing the deep-seated structural issues that perpetuate corruption in the Philippines.
The article rightly highlights President Marcos’ leadership as pivotal. Effective governance requires a credible, committed figurehead who can inspire trust and mobilize reform efforts. The administration’s public declarations and policy initiatives signal this intent. Institutional reforms, improved legal enforcement, and public accountability mechanisms are cited as pathways toward transparency. From a public administration perspective, these are essential components; without institutional capacity and legal backbone, anti-corruption rhetoric remains hollow.
Yet, the principal-agent theory suggests that even with robust institutions, corruption can persist if the incentives for agents (public officials) to act in their own self-interest outweigh the incentives to act in the best interest of the principal (the public). This caution is echoed in Professor Julio C. Teehankee’s incisive critique in his lecture “The Performative Irony of President Bongbong Marcos’ Anti-Corruption Campaign.” Delivered at the City University of Hong Kong (Talk Politics with Julio Teehankee), the lecture challenges the administration’s campaign as potentially performative—more political theater than substantive reform. The “Mahiya Naman Kayo” campaign, while catchy and morally charged, may mask ongoing inefficiencies and unresolved corruption, as evidenced in problematic flood control projects. Teehankee argues that the Marcos administration’s anti-corruption campaign, particularly the “Mahiya Naman Kayo” initiative, exhibits performative irony. This means the public displays and rhetoric of reform serve more as political theater to gain public approval rather than addressing systemic issues.
Professor Teehankee’s analysis invites us to question the gap between anti-corruption messaging and policy outcomes. Political communication often simplifies complex governance challenges into slogans and spectacles to rally public support. However, without rigorous enforcement, transparency, and institutional independence, these campaigns risk becoming symbolic gestures rather than agents of change. The rent-seeking theory further explains how individuals and groups can exploit their positions in government to extract economic rents, perpetuating corruption even under the guise of reform.
Historical parallels deepen this skepticism. The Marcos administration’s campaign recalls the “Daang Matuwid” (Straight Path) narrative of President Noynoy Aquino, which similarly promised moral governance and reform. While that administration had notable successes, it also faced criticism for failing to uproot entrenched corruption fully. Such precedents remind us that anti-corruption narratives can sometimes serve political legitimacy more than systemic transformation. The leadership factor further complicates public reception. The name Marcos carries historical baggage, which colors perceptions of the current administration’s sincerity. Critics invoke this legacy to question motivations, while supporters emphasize the need to judge reforms on their present substance rather than past associations.
Balancing these perspectives is critical. The optimistic call for unity reflects a necessary mobilization of societal forces. Corruption is too complex for isolated government action; citizen engagement and vigilant civil society are indispensable. Yet, Teehankee’s critique underscores the importance of accountability beyond rhetoric. The administration must demonstrate measurable outcomes, consistent legal action, and institutional reform. As a public servant, I recognize the delicate balance between political realities and governance ideals. Every administration deserves a fair chance to prove its commitment. However, the public’s skepticism is a healthy mechanism—a form of democratic vigilance that ensures leaders remain accountable.
From my experience, genuine reform hinges on several pillars. First, strong institutions are paramount. Independent oversight bodies, transparent procurement, and an unyielding judiciary are essential to detect and punish corruption. Second, political will must go beyond speeches. It requires prosecuting offenders impartially, including those close to power, to dismantle patronage networks effectively. Third, public engagement is not merely symbolic; citizens must be empowered with mechanisms to report corruption safely and to demand accountability. Fourth, systemic change is vital—addressing monopolies, regulatory weaknesses, and political patronage that fuel corruption cycles. Anti-corruption efforts lacking these prerequisites are likely to be superficial.
I’ve seen anti-corruption campaigns falter due to a lack of political will to prosecute powerful figures. The true test of the Marcos administration’s commitment will be whether it is willing to hold even its closest allies accountable for corrupt practices. Political interference made it hard to prosecute powerful officials, and I saw it happen. This is where the concept of state capture becomes relevant, as powerful actors can manipulate the legal and regulatory environment to protect their corrupt interests.
Ultimately, the fight against corruption is neither simple nor straightforward. The Marcos administration’s campaign embodies the tension between hope and skepticism, between inspiring rhetoric and the hard work of institutional reform. It is imperative for stakeholders—government, civil society, academia, and citizens—to engage critically and constructively. Only by combining collective commitment with rigorous oversight, transparent policies, and genuine institutional strengthening can the Philippines move closer to the vision of a corruption-free society. Let us therefore unite, but with eyes wide open, ready to demand more than promises—ready to insist on real, lasting change, demanding accountability and transparency at every step.