The Cameras That Watch Us All

How Sara Duterte turned ₱212,000 CCTV units into a national morality play

By Louis “Barok” C. Biraogo — December 8, 2025

CUT to The Hague, December 2025: The city that judged Milosevic and Karadzic now hosts a far graver spectacle—Sara Duterte, live and in color, explaining why the Filipino taxpayer needed to drop ₱1.48 million so her buses could enjoy CCTV sharper than most people’s family televisions.

It’s a tableau straight out of a political thriller, where the mundane morphs into the menacing, and a ₱212,000 price tag on a CCTV camera becomes the smoking gun in a broader saga of suspicion.

Welcome to the latest act in the Philippine drama of power and pretense, where Sara Duterte’s Office of the Vice President (OVP) faces scrutiny over seven surveillance systems that cost taxpayers ₱1.48 million—or roughly the price of a luxury sedan per unit.

**“Live from The Hague: Smile, you’re on candid ‘gotcha!’”**

Is this overreach, oversight, or just another optical illusion in the hall of mirrors that is Philippine politics?

Let’s dissect this like a detective unraveling a whodunit, where the clues are buried in audit footnotes and the suspects hide behind “unqualified opinions.”

The official narrative from Duterte and her office is a fortress of deflection: No findings of overpricing, no wrongdoing, they insist, as echoed in her ambush interview on December 5, 2025. The CCTVs, we’re told, were procured properly for satellite offices and the OVP’s “Libreng Sakay” buses, recommended by security experts to safeguard assets—a noble cause, wrapped in the ribbon of bureaucratic necessity. And the crown jewel? That “unqualified opinion” from the Commission on Audit (COA), which Duterte brandishes like a papal indulgence, crediting her hardworking staff for the paperwork that keeps the office’s facade intact. It’s a story of diligence and duty, where the audit’s clean bill of health absolves all.

But peel back the layers, and the counter-narrative emerges like a shadow in the footage these very cameras might capture. Critics—and a swelling chorus on social media—aren’t buying it. Why? Because ₱212,000 per unit screams excess when basic CCTV setups can be had for a fraction of that price. Market listings for high-end PTZ or ruggedized cameras hover in the ₱150,000 to ₱300,000 range, sure, but without specs, bids, or contracts laid bare, it’s all too easy to suspect padding.

And that “unqualified opinion”? COA’s own guidance is a plot twist: It means the financial statements are materially fair, but it doesn’t rule out misstatements that were corrected, nor does it vouch for efficiency, economy, or full compliance with every rule. It’s not a get-out-of-jail-free card; it’s more like a doctor’s note saying your vital signs are stable, even if the underlying ailment festers.

Rhetorically, one must ask: If everything’s so pristine, why weaponize a technical term to shut down debate, rather than fling open the books?

This isn’t a standalone episode; it’s a sequel haunted by ghosts from previous seasons. Remember the ₱125 million in confidential funds vaporized in just 11 days? Or the COA flags on inflated laptop valuations and ballooning personnel costs? These aren’t footnotes; they’re red flags waving in a storm of scrutiny. Layer in the whispers of impeachment rumbling through the House, where “betrayal of public trust” could be the charge du jour.

And then there’s the delicious irony of Duterte’s defense unfolding in The Hague—home to the International Criminal Court, where her family’s “war on drugs” legacy looms like an uninvited specter. One can’t help but wonder: Is this mere coincidence, or a symbolic flex, projecting defiance from the very epicenter of global accountability? The optics cast long shadows, turning a routine audit into a morality play about evasion and entitlement.

What drives the players in this theater of the absurd? For Sara Duterte, it’s survival mode: Protecting the Duterte brand, mobilizing her base with tales of persecution, and shifting blame to faceless staffers who handle the “legwork.” It’s narrative control at its finest—framing audit nuances as total exoneration to insulate against political torpedoes.

Her critics, meanwhile, walk a tightrope: Is this genuine watchdogging, hounding power for the people’s sake? Or a calculated strike, weaponizing COA notes to erode her standing ahead of future elections? Both motives swirl, but the satire bites hardest in the contradictions: A vice president preaching fiscal prudence while her office’s spending habits evoke a high-roller’s spree, all defended from a city that judges the world’s worst offenders.

The fallout could be seismic. Politically, this might tip the scales toward impeachment momentum, chipping away at public trust and dimming Duterte’s star—already flickering amid plummeting approval ratings. Governance-wise, it poisons the well: If “unqualified opinion” becomes a shield for questionable deals, COA’s sanctity crumbles, setting a precedent where procurement turns into a free-for-all, with taxpayers footing the bill for “ruggedized” excesses. Societally, it deepens the cynicism that plagues our democracy—polarizing us further into camps of blind loyalty and bitter skepticism, where every audit becomes a battlefield and facts dissolve into fog.

Yet, amid the satire and suspense, moral clarity demands action. Public office is a sacred trust, not a black box; opacity is democracy’s mortal foe.

To shatter the impasse, the OVP must release the full dossier: Technical specifications detailing what a “CCTV system” entails (cameras? DVRs? Installation?), bids and contracts exposing suppliers and procurement modes, invoices, acceptance reports, and photos of these guardians in action.

Journalists, sharpen your pens: Hammer on the gaps—Why no third-party verification of value? How do these prices stack against comparable government buys? And what safeguards prevent “price creep” from infecting other agencies?

In the end, this scandal isn’t just about cameras; it’s a lens on our nation’s soul.

Will we settle for shadows and spin, or demand the light of truth?

Sara Duterte, the ball is in your court—transparency now, or let the ghosts of scrutiny haunt your legacy forever.

The Filipino people deserve no less.