The 48-Hour Fiasco: Mayor Magalong’s Meteoric Rise and Fall as the Philippines’ Shortest-Lived Corruption Crusader

ICI Unraveled: A Commission So ‘Independent’ It Needs Executive Permission to Blink

By Louis ‘Barok‘ C. Biraogo — September 28, 2025

IN A plot twist that could make a telenovela blush, Baguio City Mayor Benjamin Magalong has resigned as “special adviser” to the so-called Independent Commission for Infrastructure (ICI) after a mere 48 hours. Appointed with fanfare, trotted out for Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH) inspections like a shiny new badge, and then discarded faster than a political piñata at a budget hearing, Magalong’s tenure was a spectacular dud—a firework that fizzled before it could even spark. This isn’t just a story of one man’s brief flirtation with national glory; it’s a scathing exposé of Malacañang’s legal incompetence, ethical blindness, and the farcical optics of a commission that’s about as independent as a puppet on a string. Buckle up, ka-kweba, for a masterclass in how to botch an anti-corruption probe in record time.

Constitutional Trainwreck: Malacañang’s Middle Finger to the Rule of Law

Let’s kick things off with the legal equivalent of a face-plant into a pile of jurisprudence. The 1987 Constitution’s Article IX-B, Section 7 is crystal clear: “No elective official shall be eligible for appointment or designation in any capacity to any public office or position during his tenure” unless explicitly allowed by law or tied to the primary functions of their office. This isn’t legalese; it’s a neon-lit command to keep elected officials from moonlighting as Executive Branch errand boys. Yet, Malacañang, in its infinite wisdom, decided to appoint Baguio’s mayor as a roving “special adviser” to sniff out infrastructure graft. Because nothing says “independent probe” like tasking a sitting mayor with a side hustle that screams constitutional violation.

The Palace’s defense? A flimsy “he’s just an adviser” dodge that wouldn’t pass a first-year law student’s exam (Rappler). As if slapping “special” on the title magically sidesteps the Constitution. The Supreme Court has been swatting down this nonsense for decades. In Civil Liberties Union v. Executive Secretary (G.R. No. 83896, 1991), the justices tore into executive overreach, ruling that constitutional bars on dual office-holding aren’t suggestions—they’re non-negotiable. Ditto for Funa v. Agra (G.R. No. 191644,2013), which clarified that elective officials can only take on additional roles if a statute explicitly allows it or it’s intrinsic to their job. Spoiler: Magalong’s ICI gig checks neither box. It’s not lawyering; it’s legal fan fiction. Labor leader Sonny Matula hit the nail on the head: wearing two hats makes this probe “good in form but weak in substance” (Rappler). Malacañang didn’t just drop the ball; they yeeted it into a constitutional abyss.

The ICI: A Toothless Charade Masquerading as Justice

Behold the Independent Commission for Infrastructure (ICI), birthed by Executive Order No. 94 (EO 94) to “investigate” a decade of flood-control fiascos. Sounds noble, right? Except this ad-hoc commission is as independent as a toddler clinging to mommy’s leg. Created by presidential fiat, it lacks the statutory subpoena power to make even a barangay captain quiver. Want to haul in witnesses or seize documents? Good luck—unless the DPWH or other agencies voluntarily play ball, the ICI’s stuck begging for scraps. It’s a Potemkin village of anti-corruption theater, designed for headlines, not handcuffs.

And Magalong’s role? Traipsing after DPWH Secretary Vince Dizon like a sidekick in a buddy cop flick gone wrong (Rappler). Independent? Hardly. His resignation letter called it out, slamming “circumstances that already cast doubt on the independence of the Independent Commission for Infrastructure” (Rappler). Translation: this isn’t a commission; it’s a press release with a budget. If you’re investigating flood-control graft, maybe don’t cozy up to the very department neck-deep in the scandal. Just a thought.

Conflict of Interest? More Like a Conflict Catastrophe

Now, let’s talk about the elephant in the room—or rather, the ₱110-million tennis court and parking lot in Baguio, built by none other than St. Gerrard Construction, a firm linked to the infamous Discaya family (Rappler). You know, the same Discayas who’ve admitted to doling out kickbacks to politicians and DPWH officials like it’s candy at a parade (Philstar). And who oversaw this pristine Baguio project? Mayor Magalong, now tasked with probing national infrastructure scams involving, you guessed it, Discaya-linked firms. It’s not a conflict of interest; it’s a conflict supernova.

The Code of Conduct and Ethical Standards for Public Officials and Employees (Republic Act No. 6713) is unambiguous: public officials must avoid any situation where private or local interests could compromise public duty. Section 7 demands officials steer clear of financial ties or actions that even hint at partiality. Magalong’s defense? “The bidding was proper” (Rappler). Sure, and I’m the next National Artist for Transparency. Even if the paperwork’s clean, the optics are filthier than a Metro Manila flood. In anti-corruption probes, perception is as deadly as proof, and this reeks of partiality so blatant it could star in its own Senate hearing.

The Clowns in This Circus: Magalong’s Retreat and Malacañang’s Meltdown

Let’s meet our star players. First, Benjamin Magalong, former Philippine National Police (PNP) bigwig who cut his teeth on the Mamasapano probe and thought he could waltz into the ICI without a legal hurricane. Principled resigner? Don’t buy the spin. His resignation letter—dripping with “the Palace’s pronouncements… have undermined the role and mandate entrusted to me” (Rappler)—wasn’t a stand for honor; it was a lifeboat from a sinking ship. He saw the constitutional buzzsaw and Discaya-shaped albatross coming and bolted, cloaking his exit in noble prose. This isn’t heroism; it’s a tactical retreat with better PR than a campaign ad.

Then there’s Malacañang, staging a press briefing that was less damage control and more self-inflicted disaster. Press Officer Claire Castro’s word salad—”Nadinig po din natin ang kagalang-galang na Mayor Magalong na nauubusan na yata siya… kailangang unahin po rin ang mga kababayan natin sa Baguio City” (Rappler)—is the kind of verbal flailing that makes you wonder if the Palace hires spin doctors or just spins a wheel of excuses. The kicker? Claiming Magalong was “just an adviser, not a member,” as if that erases the constitutional red flags or the fact they threw their own appointee under the bus. This isn’t governance; it’s a masterclass in how to fumble a crisis in front of a live audience.

The Bitter Aftertaste: A Probe Doomed to Drown

Magalong’s 48-hour flop isn’t a victory for ethics—it’s a neon sign flashing “SYSTEM FAILURE.” The ICI staggers on, a toothless relic of good intentions, while the Discaya scandals fester like untreated sewage. Want a real anti-corruption probe? Scrap the EO charade and pass a law giving the ICI subpoena power and true independence. Appoint investigators who don’t have local projects tied to the very contractors they’re probing. And enforce RA 6713 like it’s not just a suggestion on a Post-it note. Until then, this is just another chapter in the Philippines’ favorite tragicomedy: big promises, bigger scandals, and infrastructure that washes away with the next typhoon.

Magalong? He’s back in Baguio, where the tennis courts gleam but the questions linger. His resignation dodged a Supreme Court smackdown, but the real casualty is public trust. The ICI’s stillborn “independence” and Malacañang’s legal clown show prove one thing: in the fight against graft, the only thing deeper than the corruption is the incompetence.

Louis ‘Barok’ C. Biraogo is the voice behind Kweba ni Barok, slicing through political nonsense with a legal machete. Got tips? Email kuwebanibarok@gmail.com.