The OVP’s P903 Million Jackpot: A Teleserye of Fiscal Fiasco in Philippine Politics

By Louis ‘Barok‘ C. Biraogo — July 15, 2025

IN A twist straight out of a teleserye so absurd it could star Vilma Santos and Judy Ann Santos fighting over a balikbayan box, the Department of Budget and Management (DBM) has gifted the Office of the Vice President (OVP) a P903 million budget for 2026, up P170 million from its initial P733 million proposal. This windfall, we’re told, will fund “additional personnel” and “IT modernization” for an office whose main gig seems to be ribbon-cutting and dodging congressional shade. While schools beg for chalk and hospitals ration bandages, the DBM’s largesse toward Vice President Sara Duterte’s office is like handing a bonggador a platinum credit card. Let’s dissect this barangay-level budgeting sarsuela with the wit it deserves and a moral slap to wake up the kapitan.

Unpacking the Excuses: “Modernization” or a MacBook Shopping Spree?

The OVP’s case for an extra P170 million rests on two shaky stilts: hiring more staff and “modernizing” systems.

First, the IT upgrades. Spokesperson Ruth Castelo claims the P110 million for “IT equipment” will transform an office with a mandate fuzzier than a sari-sari store’s inventory list. Modernization? In a nation where government websites crash faster than a jeepney on EDSA during a typhoon, this smells like a pretext to splurge on MacBooks for ghost employees. Are we funding a state-of-the-art database or just ensuring Sara’s Instagram reels stay 4K? The vagueness is louder than a karaoke belt at 2 a.m.

Then there’s the P60 million for “additional personnel”. The OVP, whose job is to smile at fiestas and wait for the president to slip, suddenly needs more staff? This is an office stripped of its Department of Education throne and its controversial confidential funds, yet it’s hiring like it’s hosting a nationwide perya. What functions require this manpower? Printing glossy posters for Sara’s next barangay visit? The DBM’s reasoning is as airtight as a sikad-sikad with a flat tire: Why fund classrooms when the OVP needs a “modern” system to track its fading relevance?

Contrast this with the austerity choking vital sectors. The Department of Education’s 2026 budget faces scrutiny for basic supplies, with teachers buying markers out of pocket. Health facilities ration beds like tapa at a family reunion, yet the DBM, with the thrift of a tita at a Shopee sale, finds P170 million in loose change for an office more ceremonial than a santo statue. It’s like upgrading the barangay hall’s Wi-Fi while the health center runs out of paracetamol.

The Political Sarsuela: Marcos vs. Duterte in a Budgeting Belen

The timing of this budget hike is peak teleserye—a clash of titans in a barrio showdown. The Marcos-Duterte alliance, once tighter than lechon skin, has crumbled faster than a polvoron. The 2023 stripping of the OVP’s confidential funds after public outcry over their murky use was a public humiliation, with Marcos’ House allies grilling Sara like she was a lechon on a spit. Yet, the DBM tosses the OVP a P903 million lifeline, like a kumpare slipping cash to settle a utang na loob.

The OVP’s “no confidential funds” pledge is paraded as a victory for transparency, as if we should give a standing ovation for not repeating a scandal. Let’s not forget: in 2022, P30.5 million of those “confidential” funds bought tables, chairs, and computers—items as secret as a tindera’s price list. This vow to forgo shady funds feels like a reformed jueteng lord promising to stick to bingo.

The DBM’s approval, cloaked in bureaucratic jargon, is a masterclass in barangay politics, where budgets are less about need and more about keeping the kapitan and konsehala from clawing each other’s eyes out. Is this a peace offering to keep Sara in the Marcos camp, or a trap to paint her as the spoiled prinsesa? Either way, it’s a sarsuela where the audience—the Filipino masa—pays the price.

Ludicrous Fixes: Why Stop at IT When We Can Fund a Sara Duterte Metaverse?

If we’re splashing P170 million on the OVP, why settle for boring IT and staff? Let’s go full pabongga.

Picture a Sara Duterte-themed MMORPG, where players navigate a virtual Malacañang, dodging congressional probes and collecting “modernization” tokens. Or fund a nationwide sari-sari store Wi-Fi network branded with the OVP logo—because nothing screams “public service” like free internet for buying tingi sachets. If “modernization” is the vibe, why not a fleet of drones to deliver Sara’s speeches to every barrio, ensuring her wisdom reaches every carabao?

Let’s lean into the bureaucracy’s love for jargon. Rebrand the budget hike as the “Strategic Operational Enhancement for National Synergy” (SOENS), complete with a blockchain to track every longganisa served at OVP events. The P110 million for IT? Build an AI to generate Sara’s press releases, saving staff from typing “transparency” 50 times a day. The extra personnel? Hire TikTok influencers to live-stream ribbon-cuttings, turning ceremonial duties into viral chismis.

If we’re spending public money on absurdities, let’s make it a fiesta everyone can laugh at.

The Gut-Punch Reality: Governance as a Cruel Komedia

Beneath the satire, the DBM’s decision is a gut punch to a nation scraping by. While teachers crowdfund classroom supplies and hospitals turn away the sick, the OVP’s P903 million is a middle finger to every Filipino hustling to survive. The Marcos-Duterte feud, played out through budget approvals and public spats, turns governance into a teleserye where the masa are mere extras.

In a country where children study under nipa roofs and patients die waiting for care, this budget hike isn’t just a fiscal flop—it’s a betrayal of the public’s trust, wrapped in the shiny foil of “modernization.” Governance should lift the barrio, not fund a konsehala’s vanity project.