A Nation Shocked: The Ombudsman Might Actually Do His Job

By Louis ‘Barok‘ C. Biraogo — October 10, 2025

STOP the presses, alert the bishops, and call the Palace spin doctors — it appears the Philippines may have accidentally appointed an Ombudsman who plans to ombudsman.

Jesus Crispin “Boying” Remulla, the new occupant of that sleepy office usually reserved for professional fence-sitters, has just announced that he intends to “sort out this mess.” The “mess,” of course, refers to the small matter of billions of pesos lost to ghost flood-control projects — the kind of “invisible infrastructure” that only appears on paper and in the wallets of certain contractors.

In any other country, such resolve might be expected. In ours, it’s revolutionary — and therefore deeply suspicious.

Enter the Guardians of the Status Quo

Cue Senator Imee Marcos, who nearly dropped her pearls at the news. “Is it really Boying?” she gasped, apparently shocked that a former Justice Secretary would have the audacity to continue being, well, just.

According to Imee, this whole thing is a diabolical “Plan C.” Plan A (People’s Initiative) failed, Plan B (impeachment) fizzled, so naturally the next logical step was… appointing an Ombudsman who reads reports and prosecutes corruption. Truly the most sinister plot in Philippine history.

She warns of grave danger to Vice President Sara Duterte — whose “safety,” she says, is at stake. Because, as everyone knows, nothing imperils one’s safety quite like an audit.

And then there’s Senator Ronald “Bato” Dela Rosa, who bravely went on radio to ask the tough question: why on earth would the Ombudsman prioritize the Vice President’s confidential funds when there are ghost flood projects to chase? Because obviously, an official cannot possibly pursue two corruption cases at once. It’s not as if the Ombudsman’s office has, say, investigators or divisions or… staff.

Bato, bless him, means well. But hearing him lecture on investigative priorities is like being told to read the Constitution by someone who’s used it mainly as a coaster.

An Unqualified Disaster — For the Corrupt

The senators’ outrage would almost be touching if it weren’t so transparent. What they really mean is: How dare this man forget how the game is played?

For decades, the Ombudsman’s post has been the government’s moral fig leaf — the bureaucratic version of “thoughts and prayers.” We appoint someone respected, let him issue strongly worded statements, and then everyone goes back to looting in peace.

Remulla, however, seems intent on breaking the unspoken rule that the powerful must never feel uncomfortable. He’s talking about investigating “ghost” projects, “billions lost,” and yes, even “confidential funds.” You can almost hear the collective shudder of every official with an unliquidated expense report.

The Real Fear

Let’s be honest: Imee and Bato’s sudden passion for procedural purity has little to do with ethics and everything to do with self-preservation. They know that if Remulla digs deep enough, he won’t just find ghost projects — he’ll find ghosts of administrations past, each leaving behind its own trail of padded budgets and political payoffs.

So now, they preemptively cry “politicization,” because in the Philippines, every anti-corruption drive is “political” — unless it’s targeting your enemies, in which case it’s “reform.”

The idea that an Ombudsman might look into all sides — including those with the right surnames and alliances — is apparently too radical to contemplate.

The Nation That Hates Accountability

There’s something uniquely Filipino about this. We demand clean government, but only if it doesn’t inconvenience anyone we voted for. We decry corruption, but recoil when investigators get too close to our tribe.

If Remulla were soft-pedaling and smiling for photo ops, he’d be called a “team player.” But because he’s talking about subpoenas and prosecutions, he’s now a “threat.”

One almost feels sorry for him. The poor man probably thought “Ombudsman” meant “defender of the people,” not “designated scapegoat.”

Hope, the Most Dangerous Thing

Still, there’s a delicious irony in watching politicians panic at the possibility that the law might, for once, be applied consistently. The mere rumor of accountability has them sweating harder than a contractor at a COA exit conference.

If Remulla actually goes after the flood-control mafia and scrutinizes the Vice President’s confidential funds, he’ll have done something unheard of in this republic: his job.

And if that happens, we might witness a miracle even greater than the restoration of EDSA traffic lights after a storm — the restoration of public trust.

Of course, it’s equally possible the system will swallow him whole. He could still be neutered by budget cuts, blocked by courts, or drowned in “inter-agency coordination.” But for now, there’s a flicker of something the country hasn’t felt in a long time: fear — not among the people, but among the powerful.

So let’s savor it. For once, the establishment isn’t laughing.

The Ombudsman says he’ll “sort out the mess.” We should wish him luck — not because the task is impossible, but because it’s the first time in years that someone in power actually seems willing to try.