Manila’s Traffic Trap: How AI Cameras Bleed Drivers Dry in a Rigged Game

By Louis ‘Barok’ C Biraogo — May 31, 2025

IN Metro Manila, where gridlock strangles hope, the Metropolitan Manila Development Authority (MMDA) has unleashed a digital predator: AI-powered cameras under the No Contact Apprehension Policy (NCAP), relaunched on May 26, 2025. It’s sold as a cure for chaos—safer roads, less corruption, and order through technology’s unblinking eye. But this is no savior. It’s a machine that fines the innocent, cloaked in promises of fairness. This is algorithmic extortion, and the human cost is a slow-motion tragedy.

Imagine Kathy, a nurse speeding to her Quezon City hospital shift. She swerves to avoid a cyclist crumpled on Commonwealth Avenue, her pulse racing as she chooses life over lines. Days later, a notice slaps her with a P1,000 fine for “illegal swerving,” flagged by an AI camera blind to human judgment. She tries to appeal via the MMDA’s portal—bit.ly/3J62YhH—but it’s a digital dead end, sluggish and silent. Kathy’s story is no outlier; it’s the grim reality for countless drivers caught in a system that punishes instinct and buries justice under bureaucracy.

The Mirage of Fair Oversight

The MMDA swears its AI-driven NCAP is tempered by human touch. Violations, they say, are “manually reviewed” to catch errors, like yielding to ambulances. But their choice of reviewers—mostly deaf-mute personnel—raises a piercing question: is this a noble gesture of inclusivity or a sly tactic to mute dissent? With 1,112 violations logged in a single day, the process feels less like scrutiny and more like a factory line. How thorough can reviews be when violations pile up faster than Manila’s traffic?

Motorists dread false penalties. The AI, rigid as a dictator, flags swerves to dodge potholes or save lives as infractions, context be damned. MMDA Chairman Romando Artes admits the system’s flaws, noting AI might misread a swerve prompted by an obstruction. Yet drivers must fight these errors through an online appeal system that’s clunky at best, broken at worst. X user @JustRouIt nails it: “This isn’t justice—it’s algorithmic extortion.” The MMDA’s vague pledge that errors will be “mai-invalidate” rings hollow—what does that even mean? A refund? An apology? Or just a bureaucratic shrug?

Safety Sham or Cash Grab?

The MMDA’s plan to flood Metro Manila with 1,000 more AI cameras reeks of ambition, but whose? Violation stats expose the game: 1,112 on Monday, 549 on Tuesday, 552 by Wednesday afternoon, despite public fury. This isn’t a system honed for safety; it’s a revenue net, snaring fines with ruthless precision. At P1,000 per infraction for common violations like ignoring traffic signs, a single day’s haul could top P1 million. The Manila Times reveals the MMDA’s cost-cutting plan: swap P58 mailed notices for P1 text alerts. Efficiency? Sure. But it’s also a chilling hint that profit, not protection, drives the machine.

Transport groups like the Stop NCAP Coalition cry foul, pointing to faulty infrastructure—unreadable stoplights, missing timers—that rigs the game against drivers. Kathy’s swerve to save a cyclist becomes a fine because the AI doesn’t care about intent. The Tribune touts NCAP’s aim to “minimize human intervention,” but when revenue spikes while drivers suffer, the question burns: who’s this system really for?

Crushing the Human Spirit

Who are these deaf-mute reviewers, and are they equipped to judge complex cases—like a jeepney driver dodging a pothole or a parent rushing a sick child to the ER? The MMDA offers no insight into their training or conditions, leaving us to wonder: are they empowered or just pawns in a high-speed violation mill? With 1,112 violations in one day, the pressure to keep up must be crushing, yet the agency stays silent.

Drivers like Kathy bear the real scars. Commonwealth Avenue, with its repair-ravaged, barely visible lane markings, is a punishment waiting to happen. An X post by @mariannenriquez flags a legislative inquiry slamming “confusing lane markings” and defective stoplights, yet the MMDA barrels forward. The Inquirer cites the Alliance of Concerned Transport Organizations, which backs NCAP’s return “as long as it remains fair.” But fairness is a fantasy when infrastructure fails and appeals vanish into a digital abyss.

A System Built to Break

The MMDA’s digital house is crumbling. A Philstar report warns of fake NCAP links, with scammers lurking while the official website remains “under construction” a week after launch. If the agency can’t secure a basic URL, why trust it with AI that wields fines like a sledgehammer? This isn’t just incompetence; it’s a betrayal of public faith.

Legally, NCAP teeters. A 2022 Supreme Court restraining order, partially lifted on May 20, 2025, signals ongoing fights over due process. Transport groups argue notices sent to vehicle owners—regardless of who drove—violate basic fairness. The MMDA’s fix? An appeal process that feels like shouting into the void and manual reviews that can’t keep up. With 833,097 violations piled up during the suspension, this is a tsunami of punishment waiting to crash.

Reclaim the Roads from Machines

This isn’t innovation; it’s collateral damage masquerading as progress, echoing the drone strikes I exposed in 2015. Back then, “collateral damage” masked civilian deaths; today, algorithmic injustice fines drivers for being human. When a speed gun trumps a life-saving swerve, we’ve surrendered morality to code. The MMDA must halt NCAP until its AI hits a verifiable 99% accuracy rate, proven by independent audits. Fix the roads first—clear signage, visible lanes, working stoplights—before fining drivers for navigating a broken system. And overhaul the appeal process: make it transparent, accessible, and human.

Manila’s traffic is chaos, but so is a system that fines Kathy for saving a life. The MMDA must decide: serve the people or milk them dry. Until then, NCAP isn’t a solution—it’s a scandal.