The Trouble With Hunger

 

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Nagpasundayag nan kahamugaway.

Late in 2024, the Discaya couple, Curlee and Sarah Discaya, were featured in interviews with veteran broadcast journalists Julius Babao and Korina Sanchez, where they recounted their rise from modest beginnings to substantial wealth, notably showcased through their extensive fleet of luxury vehicles. What became especially viral, however, was Sarah’s candid admission that she purchased a Rolls-Royce Cullinan simply “because of the umbrella” that came with it, an oddly meticulous justification that quickly captured public attention.

Not long after, Sarah Discaya was summoned by the Senate to face an investigation into alleged ghost flood-control projects involving their family’s construction firms. Public scrutiny intensified after the couple openly flaunted their luxury cars, fueling suspicions that their lavish lifestyle may have been financed through the excessive use, and possible misuse, of taxpayers’ money.

Throughout the proceedings, Sarah remained composed despite a barrage of questions from senators. Her poise, however, prompted some observers to wonder: was this yet another extension of her hunger for publicity? For critics, granting exclusive interviews to two of the country’s most prominent journalists appeared to be a calculated act of self-promotion, especially given her previous attempt to run for political office in Pasig.

Others interpreted it differently, suggesting that such displays could be a way of compensating for unmet needs, given the couple’s humble origins.

The behavior displayed by Sarah Discaya can also be examined through the lens of psychology, particularly the human need for self-promotion as a form of identity construction and social validation. Sedikides, Gregg, and Hart (2007) argue that individuals often engage in self-enhancement and self-promotion not merely to impress others, but to manage insecurities and compensate for perceived deficiencies rooted in earlier life experiences.

Adding to the controversy, Ferdinand Patinio of the Philippine News Agency reported that the Bureau of Customs (BOC) has taken custody of 28 luxury vehicles linked to the Discaya family. According to the BOC, the family voluntarily surrendered 16 high-end cars, while another 12 were secured on September 3, 2025, through a court-ordered search at the Pasig City compound of St. Gerrard Construction General Contractor & Development Corp., a firm owned by the Discayas.

Public outrage deepened when, as reported by Mark Ernest Villeza of The Philippine Star on September 4, activists from various groups stormed the gates of St. Gerrard Construction in Pasig City. Denouncing what they described as corrupt contractors and politicians behind anomalous flood-control projects, the protesters hurled mud at the company gate and spray-painted words such as “magnanakaw,” “kurakot,” and “ikulong” across the walls and fences.

Considering these developments, one is compelled to reflect on whether the relentless pursuit of affirmation and self-promotion ultimately comes at a psychological cost. As Kim and Ko (2022) suggest, conspicuous displays often reveal not genuine success but the insecurities they are meant to conceal. When wealth becomes a spectacle and publicity is mistaken for legitimacy, what emerges is not admiration but a cycle of excess that fosters suspicion and erodes public trust.

In the end, the Discaya story is not merely about luxury cars or extravagant lifestyles: it is a stark reminder of how the thirst for affirmation can blind individuals to accountability. What begins as a display of success can swiftly devolve into a spectacle of excess, leaving behind not respect, but lingering questions of integrity.

Or this narrative unveils how self-promotion, when consumed by excess, inevitably collapses into greed: a relentless hunger that devours self-respect, corrodes accountability, and leaves only the hollow echoes of mistrust in its wake.

Flexed Extravagance

 

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Hapit iska milyon an panihapon.

Lately, online buzz has centered on the so-called “nepo babies” who, true to their generation’s trend, openly flaunted their extravagant lifestyles. The backlash was swift, especially from fellow Gen Z, after revelations surfaced about questionable flood-control projects. Ironically, many of those displaying wealth are now branded as “iskolar ng bayan”, children of contractors allegedly involved in anomalous deals, ghost projects, and other forms of corruption.

Cali Asajar of bnc.ph reports that children of politicians and contractors tied to billion-peso flood-control projects are under fire online for showcasing their lavish lifestyles, raising the critical question: Who’s really paying for it?

This issue connects directly to Section 4(h) of Republic Act No. 6713, or the Code of Conduct and Ethical Standards for Public Officials and Employees. The law mandates that public officials and their families must “lead modest lives appropriate to their positions and income” and must not “indulge in extravagant or ostentatious display of wealth in any form.”

One figure now at the center of this controversy is Claudine Co, who hails from a prominent Bicol family. Her father, Christopher Co, co-founded Hi-Tone Construction, while her uncle, Elizaldy “Zaldy” Co, is linked to the Sunwest Group of Companies, both among the top contractors of flood-control projects now under public scrutiny amid debates on accountability and the use of public funds.

Her online presence turned controversial after vlogs featuring private plane rides, luxury cars, and overseas travels went viral just as anomalies in flood-control projects were being investigated. Faced with mounting backlash, Claudine eventually deactivated or made private her YouTube and Instagram accounts.

Still, the criticism has been relentless. Social media users have described her as tone-deaf, entitled, and complicit in her family’s controversial business dealings, ranging from allegations of flooding due to quarrying to profiting from questionable infrastructure contracts. For many, her displays of luxury symbolize not just poor timing but also a deeper reminder of entrenched inequality.

This phenomenon can be explained through Thorstein Veblen’s (1899/2007) theory of conspicuous consumption, which argues that the display of luxury goods serves as a marker of social status but often provokes resentment when wealth is seen as unearned or exploitative.

In Co’s case, her vlogs showcasing privilege fueled outrage as netizens linked her family’s fortune to controversial projects and alleged misuse of public funds (Asajar, 2025). Her lifestyle thus became more than personal expression, it became a visible reminder of systemic inequality, echoing Pierre Bourdieu’s (1984) claim that cultural capital and privilege are continuously reproduced across generations. The intense criticism directed at Co reflects broader frustrations with corruption, dynastic politics, and the shameless flaunting of privilege at the expense of public trust.

As Pasig City Mayor Vico Sotto bluntly pointed out, corruption should be abhorred (panindirihan), not normalized. His words cut through the noise, underscoring that public tolerance of corruption is precisely what allows it to thrive. When society accepts it as business as usual, we embolden those who exploit public funds. Sotto’s reminder is both a moral stance and a challenge: either we draw the line against corruption, or we become complicit in its persistence.

To those who flaunt extravagance, let this be a warning: fate has a way of stripping away what was never rightfully ours to begin with.

As one netizen bluntly quipped, “Hindi naman sila gumanda!”, a remark that, beyond its sarcasm, underscores how conspicuous displays of privilege by so-called nepo babies not only fail to impress but instead highlight the widening disconnect between inherited wealth and public accountability.

Vampires in the Day

 

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Yay busganan!

In his bestselling book The Psychology of Money, Morgan Housel dedicates a chapter to the theme Never Enough. He observes that, for a significant part of society, including some of the wealthiest and most powerful, there seems to be no clear boundary to what “enough” truly means.

Two striking examples illustrate how greed can destroy even great success. Rajat Gupta, a former McKinsey head and Goldman Sachs board member, was jailed in 2012 for insider trading despite already having earned millions. Bernie Madoff, who ran the world’s largest Ponzi scheme worth $65 billion, was sentenced in 2009 to 150 years in prison. Both remind us that for some, wealth is never enough, until it leads them to ruin.

This is not just a story from abroad. Recently, questions have been raised over the lavish lifestyles of high-profile contractors after reports surfaced about their ownership of luxury cars. In an article published on August 26, 2025, Dominique Nicole Flores of The Philippine Star reported that the Bureau of Customs would “immediately look into” the imported vehicles of the Discaya family, owners of multiple construction firms linked to multi-billion-peso flood control projects. Scrutiny intensified after lifestyle features showing the Discayas flaunting their wealth resurfaced in connection with Pasig City Mayor Vico Sotto’s remarks on the ethics of potentially paid media interviews.

And then there are congressmen accused of siphoning public funds to sustain their extravagant lifestyles, an excess that only seems to deepen their unquenchable thirst for more.

What has happened to the mindset of these individuals? Could such public flaunting be an attempt to fill inner voids that wealth cannot satisfy? Is this not a classic illustration of the deprivation Maslow described in his hierarchy of needs, where unresolved deficits from earlier stages continue to shape behavior? Perhaps their relentless hunger for more is rooted in childhood poverty, leaving them insatiable even when abundance is already within their grasp.

Psychologist Abraham Maslow (1943) explained that deprivation at the lower levels of his hierarchy, such as basic needs for safety or security, can leave individuals with a lasting sense of emptiness. Even after acquiring wealth and status, they may still chase symbols of success to patch up those old wounds. It is this framework that helps explain why some people, despite already having more than enough, remain restless in their pursuit of power, luxury, and recognition.

But what if some were already born into wealth, yet their desire for more still pushes them to bend morality to their will? At what point does greed cease to be ambition and become a distortion of the human spirit, a kind of madness where reason is silenced and values are cast aside?

Indeed, there seems to be an addictive rush in craving ever more millions, even billions, despite the risk of public shame. Such relentless pursuit hints at deeper disorders of the spirit, if not of the mind. Philosophy teaches us a simple truth: when one continues to eat beyond fullness, the result is not satisfaction but sickness. Greed works in much the same way, when limits are ignored, the appetite becomes destructive.

Jessica Soho captured this reality with painful clarity: “Hindi na pala baha ang magpapalubog sa ating bayan, kundi kasakiman.” Her words remind us that the gravest floods in the Philippines do not always come from rivers or storms, but from the unchecked greed of those who drain our public resources.

Housel’s lesson, then, is worth repeating: enough is never about having too little, it is the wisdom to know that chasing more can eventually lead us to the edge of regret. In the end, the measure of a life well-lived is not in how much wealth is amassed, but in knowing when enough is truly enough.

Flooded with Ghosts

 

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Kayagon da…

Some individuals regard ghosts merely as constructs of the imagination—psychological projections shaped by fear and cultural narratives. However, in the Philippine context, 'ghost projects' assume a tangible reality, referring to unfinished or abandoned initiatives that persist as remnants of inefficiency, poor planning, or misaligned priorities.

Alexis Romero of The Philippine Star reported that President Marcos inspected the P55.73-million reinforced concrete river wall project in Baliuag City yesterday after receiving a complaint through the website sumbongsapangulo.ph about a non-existent project. While records from the Department of Public Works and Highways indicated that the 220-meter structure was fully paid and completed as of June, the President found otherwise, noting the absence of materials, equipment, or any sign of construction. “We did not see even a single hollow block or a piece of cement. There is no equipment here. This is a ghost project. No work was done here,” Marcos told reporters.

If ghosts are meant to frighten us, then where should our fear truly be directed? At the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH), which seems aware yet chooses silence? At the contractors, struggling to survive under the weight of a broken system? Or should we reserve our loudest screams for the politicians who conjure these phantoms and allow ghost projects to thrive?

Ghost projects highlight systemic problems of governance, accountability, and transparency in public infrastructure. Official records may claim completion, but on-site inspections often reveal otherwise, suggesting not simple error but strategic misrepresentation—deliberate distortions of costs, timelines, or accomplishments to serve political or institutional interests (Flyvbjerg, Skamris Holm, & Buhl, 2013).

This perspective highlights that ghost projects are not isolated anomalies but manifestations of deeper structural problems in public works administration, where political gain and survival often outweigh genuine service delivery.

The issue gained urgency when recent floods struck the National Capital Region, raising doubts about the reliability of other infrastructure projects such as roads and school buildings. It also calls attention to broader concerns in government programs, where lapses in accountability may leave projects vulnerable to inefficiency or misuse of resources.

At the heart of it is greed. It is deeply rooted in selfishness and the willingness to embrace what is harmful, as it prioritizes personal gain over the collective good. When the pursuit of power or wealth overshadows the welfare of others, the greater good is pushed aside, leaving communities to suffer the consequences of neglected responsibilities and misplaced priorities.

Greed has long been examined as a destructive force that undermines ethical decision-making and social welfare. Balot (2021) explains that greed, while often normalized in political and economic systems, is fundamentally corrosive because it elevates self-interest at the expense of communal well-being. In governance, this tendency manifests in corruption and misuse of resources, where the pursuit of personal or political gain overshadows the moral responsibility to serve the public good.

Those in positions of power are often driven by an insatiable desire to preserve authority, a tendency that can marginalize the poor and vulnerable. Critical voices are frequently construed as threats, resulting in the silencing or discrediting of dissent. Such dynamics reflect how unchecked ambition, and the misuse of influence perpetuate systems of domination, where the consolidation of power becomes more important than the equitable advancement of society.

Yet, we believe that what goes around comes around, for actions rooted in greed and abuse of power eventually return to confront those who commit them. History shows that injustice, no matter how long it persists, often collapses under its own weight.

In the end, ghost projects, much like floods, reveal what lies beneath the surface, exposing the cracks of greed and neglect. What is hidden will eventually rise.

 

Fallout

 

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Mag tinirohay na baja?

Childish Gambino’s “This Is America” is a striking and provocative piece of music and visual art, vividly portraying themes of entitlement, chaos, and social unrest. Its unsettling imagery, most memorably, scenes of sudden gun violence, has been praised for its unflinching commentary on societal ills. The work earned multiple honors at the 2019 Grammy Awards, including Song of the Year, Record of the Year, Best Music Video, and Best Rap/Sung Performance.

In recent weeks, the Philippines has witnessed incidents that, while far from art, echo the violence depicted in Gambino’s work. On August 12, 2025, Arlyn Dofredo Alcebar, principal of an elementary school in Barangay Agriculture, Midsayap, Cotabato province, was shot and wounded by unidentified gunmen, just a week after a teacher was killed in Lanao del Sur, within the Bangsamoro Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao (BARMM), as reported by Ferdinandh Cabrera for Rappler.

In a separate case in Santa Rosa, Nueva Ecija, a Grade 10 student and her 18-year-old alleged former boyfriend were critically injured after he reportedly shot her before turning the gun on himself inside her classroom shortly before noon on August 7, according to Armand Galang of the Philippine Daily Inquirer.

These back-to-back tragedies have shaken the academic community’s sense of safety. They also reignited debate: Could these acts of violence be a consequence of overextending child protection laws, granting minors so much autonomy that some are emboldened to commit crimes reminiscent of school shootings in the United States? Could constant exposure to violent content online be creating a dangerous perception that such acts are “trendy”?

Studies on U.S. gun violence, particularly school shootings, point to multiple contributing factors, including easy access to firearms, gaps in mental health services, and the influence of mass media (Peterson et al., 2023). Researchers have found that some perpetrators actively use social media to glorify violence, sometimes drawing direct inspiration from earlier attacks. While the Philippines has different gun laws and cultural contexts, the recent shootings in Cotabato and Nueva Ecija mirror troubling patterns seen abroad: educational spaces, once considered safe, becoming targets.

The rise in youth violence comes as lawmakers debate Senate Bill 372, filed by Senator Robinhood Padilla, which proposes lowering the minimum age of criminal responsibility from 15 to 10 for minors accused of heinous crimes such as murder, kidnapping, rape, and serious drug offenses. Padilla argues that today’s tech-savvy youth can be capable of discernment and should be held accountable. However, child rights advocates like Talikala disagree, pointing out that many children still lack the maturity to fully understand the consequences of their actions, and that the country’s rehabilitation facilities, such as Bahay Pag-asa centers, are inadequate.

Meanwhile, reports of bullying and physical violence among students continue to make headlines, prompting questions about parenting styles and the role of the home. If virtual environments are shaping children’s behavior, is parental authority being eroded? Are some parents, themselves distracted by the pull of social media, neglecting the active guidance needed to steer their children toward responsible conduct?

On August 8, the Department of Education (DepEd) ordered all schools to strengthen measures to prevent similar incidents, underscoring the urgency of the issue. But policy directives alone will not suffice. Local governments and school authorities must study these trends carefully and use data-driven insights to design targeted interventions. Without swift and evidence-based action, the haunting imagery of “This Is America” could one day take on a chillingly familiar title: “This Is the Philippines”.

Without urgent and united action, the violence we once only saw on screens may soon become our own reality.

 

Recitation

 

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Kuyba inig laong ni titser na mag oral test ta kuman!

In academic writing, it is a long-standing standard to cite authors using established citation styles such as APA, among others. Proper citation not only gives due credit to the original sources but also informs readers that the theories and frameworks presented are grounded in widely accepted knowledge within the academic community. Conversely, inaccurate or erroneous citations undermine the credibility of a paper, rendering it unreliable and disconnected from factual and scholarly foundations.

Recently, the online sphere was set abuzz by the remarks of Senator Risa Hontiveros, who cited a jurisprudence in which the Supreme Court unanimously reversed its earlier decision on a particular case.

During a Senate session, lawmakers deliberated on the motion to dismiss the impeachment case against Vice President Sara Duterte, considering the Supreme Court’s unanimous ruling that declared the impeachment unconstitutional. Senator Risa Hontiveros raised this as a point of information during the Senate’s plenary session on August 6 of this year, challenging Senator Rodante Marcoleta’s assertion that such reversals had never occurred before.

This was the League of Cities of the Philippines vs. Commission on Elections dispute, which went through six decisions between 2008 and 2011, with the high court repeatedly reversing itself and granting motions for reconsideration.

On August 8, The Philippine Star’s Dominique Nicole Flores reported that Senator Risa Hontiveros corrected her earlier statement citing a Supreme Court en banc case as a unanimous decision later overturned, admitting that several rulings in the case were not, in fact, unanimous.

"Upon checking again, the many reversals in the League of Cities decisions were not decided unanimously," she wrote in a Facebook post on Thursday night, August 7.

Online discussions once again erupted, with some netizens cautioning Senator Hontiveros against engaging in a dispute with a seasoned litigation lawyer like Senator Marcoleta. Others remarked that she should ensure her facts are accurate before projecting mastery of the subject, warning that she was treading on dangerous ground. Some commenters further reflected that lawmakers should, at the very least, have formal academic units in law before earning the title of “honorable” member of the Senate.

As Schön (1983) emphasizes, professional competence is built upon a reflective integration of both theoretical knowledge and practical experience, making formal education a critical prerequisite for credibility in practice.

Beyond the surface of this brouhaha, many Filipinos reflected if there is a need to uphold the Supreme Court’s decision, regardless of who or what is at stake, given that the SC serves as the highest guardian of the Constitution. This perspective explains why even those perceived as anti-Duterte cast their votes in favor of archiving the Vice President’s impeachment, driven solely by the intent to adhere to the Court’s ruling.

Senate President Chiz Escudero underscored the importance of unwavering respect for judicial authority during the explanation of his “yes” vote, stating: “Respecting the court only when you win or when it aligns with your belief is not respect for me. It is plain arrogance… a power play.”

Many were reminded of the commanding presence of the late Senator Miriam Defensor Santiago, who would stride into the Senate halls with fiery conviction, delivering impassioned lectures on the primacy of the Rule of Law and the necessity of deference to the Supreme Court. She firmly reminded her colleagues of the Senate’s rightful place within the constitutional framework, declaring: “They are based on the ideology that the impeachment court is not almighty, not absolute, not illimitable, and not more supreme than the Supreme Court.”

Yet, the lingering discussions now center on simple words and viral memes likening the Senate session to a classroom scene, some participants eager to show off, others confidently delivering AI-generated assertions, and a few remaining silent, visibly intimidated by the subject matter.

In the end, whether in the halls of the Senate or the walls of a classroom, credibility rests not on noise or bravado, but on mastery of facts, respect for the rule of law, and the humility to learn what one does not yet know.

 

Shameless

 

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Waya nay kasipog.

In his fourth State of the Nation Address (SONA) on Monday, July 28, President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. delivered a scathing rebuke to corrupt government officials, calling on them to feel shame for the rampant failure of flood control projects, according to Jean Mangaluz of The Philippine Star.

The President recounted personally inspecting the sites and witnessing firsthand how these projects failed to withstand the impacts of tropical cyclones Crising, Dante, and Emong, as well as the torrential rains brought by the southwest monsoon.

“Huwag na po tayong magkunwari. Alam naman ng buong madla na nagkaka-racket sa mga proyekto. Mga kickback, mga initiative, errata, SOP (standard operating procedure), for the boys,” Marcos declared.

(Let’s not play pretend. The public knows there are shady dealings in these projects — the kickbacks, the so-called initiatives, the errata, the SOPs for the boys.)

He then issued a strong condemnation: “Kaya sa mga nakikipagsabwatan upang kunin ang pondo ng bayan at nakawin ang kinabukasan ng ating mga mamamayan, mahiya naman kayo sa inyong kapwa Pilipino!”

(So, for those who conspire to seize public funds and rob our people of their future — you should be ashamed of yourselves!)

This statement (Mahiya naman kayo) received enthusiastic applause from the attendees of the SONA, while it stirred a range of reactions across social media platforms. Some commended the President for directly acknowledging that there are individuals who personally benefited from government projects. Others criticized the move, viewing it as self-incriminating, given his position as the country's highest official. Meanwhile, several viewers chose to remain silent, reflecting on whether the statement was a bold act of transparency or something better left unspoken.

A political leader is accountable to the people and is expected to ensure that public resources are used properly by monitoring fund movements, investigating abuses, and sanctioning those found guilty. This responsibility reflects the Agency Theory, which highlights the need for mechanisms to align the actions of public officials (agents) with the interests of citizens (principals) (Jensen & Meckling, 1976).

It also draws from the Rule of Law, which requires that no one is above the law, including public officials (Raz, 1979). In the context of governance, New Public Management (NPM) promotes transparency and accountability through performance-based oversight and citizen-centered service (Hood, 1991), reinforcing the leader’s duty to act on abuses of power.

Thus, merely singling out individuals who benefit from corruption may come across as lip service if not backed by concrete action. To strengthen credibility, it is essential for the leader to align rhetoric with evidence and lived realities, especially since the SONA serves as a direct and powerful channel of communication with the Filipino people.

Sino ang mahiya? These calloused politicians have grown so accustomed to corruption that kickbacks and SOPs have become routine—like water in a lake. There is no fear, no guilt, especially when their behavior is normalized and tolerated within the system for the sake of political convenience. So, who is left to feel ashamed, when everyone is busy protecting their so-called reputations through personal and professional alliances, all to preserve their grip on power?

Shame has no place among corrupt officials who have long traded conscience for influence, masking theft as strategy and betrayal as leadership.

In a political landscape where corruption is normalized and shame is absent, public officials continue to thrive in a cycle of impunity, masking greed as governance and betrayal as strategy. When conscience is silenced and personal gain outweighs public service, the moral fabric of leadership unravels. True reform will only begin when shame is no longer seen as weakness but as the first sign of integrity—when those in power choose to confront their guilt, not conceal it, and when justice is no longer delayed by alliances but driven by truth.