THE VICO EFFECT: One Mayor’s Anti-Corruption Crusade That Has the Philippines’ Elite Running Scared

How Pasig’s Young Reformer Became the Most Dangerous Name in Philippine Politics—And Why Marcos Wants Everyone to Copy Him

By Louis ‘Barok‘ C. Biraogo — August 13, 2025

IN THE Philippines, where floodwaters rise and corruption runs deeper, Pasig City Mayor Vico Sotto did the unthinkable: He named names. The contractors siphoning ₱100 billion in public funds, he revealed, included firms owned by his political rivals—a family already blacklisted for fraud. Now, the Palace urges others to “do a Vico.” But is this a watershed moment for accountability, or a calculated distraction from the rot within?

🌊 THE ₱100-BILLION HEIST: When 15 Shadow Firms Hijacked a Nation’s Flood Defenses

The numbers are staggering and shameless. President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. revealed that just 15 contractors out of 2,409 accredited firms cornered ₱100 billion—18% of the entire ₱545 billion flood control budget from July 2022 to May 2025. In any functioning democracy, such concentration would trigger immediate investigations. In the Philippines, it took a young mayor’s courage to turn whispers into headlines.

Iloilo City Mayor Raisa Treñas joined Pasig Mayor Vico Sotto in raising concerns about the Discaya family’s construction firms, revealing that four flood control projects in her city were “non-functional, nonexistent or had worsened flooding”. Picture this: In a country where typhoons kill thousands and displace millions, contractors are paid billions to build flood defenses that either don’t exist or make flooding worse. It’s not just graft—it’s homicide by negligence.

The Discaya family’s empire of concrete and corruption spans at least nine companies, including firms previously blacklisted for tax fraud and project delays. St. Gerrard Construction was suspended in 2015 for submitting spurious tax certificates and blacklisted again in 2020 for delays on a Cavite school project. Yet somehow, this family’s firms kept winning massive government contracts. The system didn’t just fail—it was designed to fail.

Consider the Iloilo projects: ₱575 million in contracts for flood control works that were either “practically non-existent,” built without permits, or constructed hastily at night to avoid scrutiny. Night construction of flood defenses should raise red flags for any competent oversight body. Instead, it appears to have been standard operating procedure for years.

⚔️ PALACE POWER PLAY: Is Claire Castro Fighting Corruption or Weaponizing It?

Palace press officer Claire Castro’s call for local officials to “do a Vico Sotto” sounds noble on its surface. Who could oppose transparency and accountability? But in Philippine politics, timing is everything, and the Palace’s sudden enthusiasm for corruption exposés deserves scrutiny.

🛡️ THE CASE FOR CASTRO’S CRUSADE

Crowdsourcing accountability is innovative. When formal oversight fails, empowering local officials to bypass potentially compromised bureaucrats makes sense. The DPWH has formed a special team to investigate the 15 contractors, suggesting the Palace is backing words with action. Sotto’s response was indeed swift and detailed, providing concrete evidence of systematic corruption. The administration’s promise that “nobody will be spared” sounds like genuine political will.

⚠️ THE CASE AGAINST: SELECTIVE OUTRAGE AND DANGEROUS PRECEDENTS

But why now? President Marcos’ family has long been synonymous with corruption allegations, making this anti-graft stance either remarkably hypocritical or strategically timed. The Palace’s silence on contracts awarded to firms connected to Marcos allies raises questions about selective outrage. When corruption warriors only target political enemies, they’re not fighting corruption—they’re weaponizing it.

More troubling is the institutional bypass. Urging local officials to report “directly to the President” sidelines the Commission on Audit, the Ombudsman, and other bodies designed to provide due process. Centralizing corruption complaints in Malacañang risks turning anti-graft efforts into political theater, where the script is written by whoever holds power.

The Palace’s approach also creates a chilling effect for smaller mayors who lack Sotto’s resources and political capital. While Sotto can afford to fight the Discaya family—his city government is even pursuing them for unpaid taxes—most local officials face budget cuts, legal harassment, or worse if they challenge powerful contractors with political connections.

🏆 THE VICO PHENOMENON: How One Mayor Became the Philippines’ Most Dangerous Politician

What makes Sotto different isn’t just his youth or his famous surname—it’s his systematic assault on the culture of corruption that defines Philippine governance. At 30, he broke a 27-year political dynasty in Pasig, campaigning on data-driven governance rather than celebrity endorsements or clan loyalty.

🌟 THE INTERNATIONAL RECOGNITION

His anti-corruption credentials are internationally recognized. The U.S. State Department named him an Anti-Corruption Champion in 2021, not for speeches but for measurable reforms: a local Freedom of Information ordinance, transparent bidding processes, and documented savings of ₱1.2 billion through cleaner procurement.

🔧 THE INSTITUTIONAL REVOLUTION

Unlike typical politicians who promise transparency, Sotto institutionalized it. Pasig’s contracts are publicly accessible, city officials are barred from appearing on billboards, and citizens can directly report corruption through hotlines. He even exposed corruption within his own administration, apprehending an employee he had recommended who was caught soliciting bribes.

⚡ THE DYNASTY BREAKER

But perhaps most importantly, Sotto refuses to play the dynasty game. In a country where political families treat public office as inherited property, he has rejected fielding relatives and maintains no party affiliation to avoid compromise. This isn’t just good governance—it’s revolutionary in Philippine context.

His courage extends beyond rhetoric. By naming the Discaya firms and detailing their connections to his political rivals, Sotto risked legal retaliation, budget cuts, and electoral consequences. In 2020, the Duterte administration summoned him for allegedly violating quarantine protocols—a move widely seen as political harassment. Yet he continues to speak truth to power.

⚖️ THE DOUBLE-EDGED SWORD: Why “Doing a Vico” Could Save or Destroy Philippine Democracy

The Palace’s call to emulate Sotto presents both opportunity and danger. Done right, it could democratize anti-corruption efforts and accelerate accountability. Done wrong, it could destroy institutional safeguards and turn corruption into a political weapon.

✅ THE PROMISE: DEMOCRACY FROM THE GROUND UP

Local officials see ground truth that central agencies miss. They know which bridges exist only on paper, which flood defenses make flooding worse, and which contractors build at night to avoid inspection. Empowering them to report directly could expose systemic fraud faster than traditional audits. The competitive pressure alone—knowing that mayors are watching and reporting—could discipline contractors and improve project quality.

⚠️ THE PERIL: WHEN REFORM BECOMES REVENGE

Without procedural safeguards, “doing a Sotto” risks becoming “doing a hit job.” Local political rivalries could contaminate corruption reports, turning legitimate oversight into partisan warfare. Mayors without Sotto’s resources face retaliation from powerful contractors and their political patrons. The absence of witness protection means that speaking up could cost careers or lives.

More fundamentally, centralizing corruption reports in the Palace creates a dangerous precedent. Today’s anti-corruption drive could become tomorrow’s political purge, depending on who occupies Malacañang. Institutional independence exists precisely to prevent such abuse.

🔧 THE BLUEPRINT FOR SURVIVAL: Five Reforms That Could Actually Work

The Philippines’ flood control funds are indeed drowning in corruption, but the solution requires more than presidential directives and mayoral heroics. Real reform demands institutional change:

📊 1. EVIDENCE-FIRST REPORTING

Require standardized documentation—geo-tagged photos, engineer certifications, community impact assessments—not just accusations. Make this data publicly accessible through government portals, creating transparency without bypassing due process.

🏛️ 2. DECENTRALIZE REVIEW POWER

Route corruption reports through strengthened integrity units within DPWH and COA, with public status tracking and mandatory response timelines. Reserve presidential involvement for cases that cross regional boundaries or involve systemic corruption.

🛡️ 3. PROTECT WHISTLEBLOWERS

Pass comprehensive protection laws with legal cover for good-faith reports and financial incentives for exposing fraud. The U.S. False Claims Act model could work in the Philippine context, allowing private citizens to file cases on behalf of the government and share in recoveries.

⚡ 4. PERFORMANCE-BASED SANCTIONS

Focus on deliverables rather than contract concentration alone. A firm that builds quality flood defenses on time and on budget shouldn’t be penalized for efficiency. But contractors who deliver non-functional projects should face immediate blacklisting and asset recovery.

📺 5. NAME AND SHAME JUDICIOUSLY

Publicize sanctions after due process, not before. Trial by press conference undermines legal remedies and gives corrupt actors grounds to claim persecution.

🎭 THE FINAL VERDICT: Reform Theater or Real Revolution?

The Palace’s “Do a Vico” campaign reveals the best and worst of Philippine politics. Sotto’s courage in exposing corruption deserves praise and emulation. His systematic approach to transparency offers a roadmap for genuine reform. But the Palace’s sudden conversion to anti-corruption crusading smells more like political calculation than moral conviction.

The real test will come when local officials start reporting on contractors connected to Marcos allies, or when the investigation of the “big 15” threatens politically sensitive relationships. If the Palace maintains its “nobody will be spared” pledge regardless of political cost, then “doing a Vico” could indeed transform Philippine governance.

But if this becomes another selective prosecution masquerading as reform—where enemies face scrutiny while allies enjoy impunity—then it will join the long list of failed anti-corruption drives that have littered Philippine history.

🌪️ THE STAKES: LIVES HANG IN THE BALANCE

The stakes could not be higher. Climate change is making floods more deadly and frequent, while corruption makes flood defenses more expensive and less effective. Every fake project, every inflated contract, every non-existent bridge could mean lives lost in the next typhoon.

Vico Sotto offered a lifeline by exposing the system’s failures. Whether the Philippines grabs that lifeline or lets it become another political prop will determine not just the country’s governance trajectory, but whether its people can survive the storms—both natural and man-made—that lie ahead.

In the end, the most dangerous flood in the Philippines may not be the water rushing through the streets, but the tide of corruption that has been allowed to rise, unchecked, for far too long. The question isn’t whether Filipinos should “do a Vico”—it’s whether they can afford not to.