From Farm-to-Market to Powerhouse-to-Pocket: Central Luzon’s ₱4.89B Pork Surprise

From Flood Control Cuts to Congressional Jackpots: The Great Budget Realignment Trick

By Louis ‘Barok‘ C. Biraogo — January 3, 2025

IN A country where thousands of farmers slog through mud and floods every harvest season, the government rolls out “farm-to-market roads” like some savior of rural development. The promise is grandiose—faster transport, cheaper food on urban tables, higher incomes for farmers. But behind the geotagged photos and online dashboards touted in the 2026 budget, what’s the real picture?

Ghost roads that exist only on paper.
Overpriced meters costing hundreds of thousands each.
And an allocation that seems to follow the political map more than actual agricultural need.

The biggest prize in this game? Central Luzon—the so-called Rice Granary of the Philippines—snagging ₱4.89 billion from the ₱33 billion FMR pie. That’s ₱490 million more than the runner-up, Eastern Visayas. A “prize” begging for scrutiny, especially since the total budget mysteriously doubled from ₱16 billion in President Marcos’s proposal to ₱33 billion in the bicam.

**“Come for the farm-to-market promise, stay for the pocket-to-politician performance art.”**

The Ground Pork Budget: How Central Luzon Became the Outlier

Let’s look at the numbers—they speak louder than DA press releases:

Central Luzon (Region 3): ₱4.89 billion
Eastern Visayas (Region 8): ₱4.4 billion
Cagayan Valley (Region 2): ₱3.78 billion
SOCCSKSARGEN (Region 12): ₱3.57 billion
Calabarzon (Region 4-A): ₱2.65 billion
…
Caraga (Region 13): ₱798 million
Mimaropa (Region 4-B): ₱480 million

The gap between Central Luzon and second place is bigger than Mimaropa’s entire share—a region riddled with isolated islands, sky-high logistics costs, and greater connectivity needs.

Why this disparity? Defenders say Central Luzon is the agricultural hub, the source of the nation’s rice. Fair enough—on paper. But why not similar largesse for farther, poorer regions that desperately need help getting crops to market? Is it really about “need,” or because Central Luzon is home to key political allies, powerful congressional districts, and the administration’s political bedrock?

The process? The fine art of budget grinding. From ₱16 billion, it ballooned in the bicam—funds shifted from flood control, already scandal-plagued. Last-minute insertions. Unvetted projects. As Sen. Ping Lacson put it, it smelled “pork-like.” Fixed? Or just ground finer to hide the patronage flavor?

The Theater of Transparency: Beautiful in Theory, Ugly in Practice

Now they’re boasting new mandates:

Geotagging!
Online dashboards!
Quarterly updates with timestamped photos!
DIME portal for everyone!

Sounds like an anti-corruption revolution, right? Lovely in theory.

But in practice?

In 2023-2024, ₱10.3 billion vanished into overpriced FMRs—projects hitting ₱348,000 per meter (standard: around ₱15,000). DA audits uncovered ghost roads: “completed” on paper, nonexistent on the ground. And now, hand the same flawed system a bigger budget?

Is this transparency, or corruption with a QR code? Dashboards showing progress, but if coordinates are fake or photos staged, what’s the point? Pure theater—for media, civil society, and voters still believing in “reforms.”

The Cast in This Farce

The President (BBM) → Faces a choice: sign a pork-heavy budget or veto and risk delays. Wield the veto pen or rubber-stamp for congressional peace?
The Legislature → Master crafters of patronage, wrapping self-interest in “rural development” rhetoric. In a Luzon-heavy House leadership, inserting funds into home turf is easier.
The Department of Agriculture → The new sheriff, handed a fat purse after DPWH scandals. Real capacity? Or just another bureaucratic layer—with MOAs still tying it to DPWH implementation?
Us—civil society, media, farmers → The audience for this transparency show. Don’t just watch the dashboard. Visit the coordinates. Photograph the ghost roads. Ask if these truly lead to markets.

The True Verdict: Campaign Ad, Not Investment

In the end, what is this? An investment in farmers, or the most expensive rural campaign ad ever?

The ₱4.89 billion for Central Luzon isn’t just a figure—it’s a mirror of our political integrity. With a 60,000 km national FMR backlog, why does the lion’s share go to the region with the strongest political muscle?

My satirical prescription: Let’s craft a new allocation formula—with a “political loyalty coefficient,” “Malacañang proximity metric,” and “election cycle bonus.” For transparency, of course.

But seriously:

We demand real accountability.

Pre-construction audits.

Citizen verification teams on-site.

Criminal liability for the first official posting a geotagged photo of a nonexistent road.

Formula-based allocation tied to poverty rates, terrain difficulty, and genuine agricultural need—not who the Speaker is.

Otherwise, these roads won’t lead to markets—they’ll just line a few pockets, leaving farmers stuck in the mud.

And that, friends, is the real betrayal of public trust.

Another day, another layer of giniling exposed,