On Sunday, September 21, 2025, the streets of Manila erupted with the energy of tens of thousands of Filipinos, united in outrage over what is being called one of the largest corruption scandals in the country’s recent history. Across the capital and beyond, demonstrators—many clad in white or sporting white ribbons—braved the sweltering heat and bursts of rain to demand accountability for billions allegedly siphoned from government coffers through flood-control projects. The protests, which paralyzed key parts of the city, were set against a backdrop of both peaceful rallies and violent clashes, underscoring the depth of public anger and the high stakes for the nation’s leadership.
According to the Associated Press, police and troops were placed on high alert as thousands of officers secured protest sites at Manila’s historic Rizal Park and near the democracy monument along EDSA, the city’s main artery. Organizers hoped to assemble one of the largest anti-corruption turnouts in years, and by midday, police estimated the crowd at around 8,000 in just one location. But the demonstrations were far from contained to a single spot. TIME reported that, all told, more than 33,000 people rallied in various parts of the capital, their numbers swelled by the gravity of the scandal and the symbolic weight of the date—September 21, the anniversary of the declaration of martial law by Ferdinand Marcos Sr. in 1972.
While most protests were peaceful, the day was not without chaos. As detailed by the Associated Press, a group of approximately 100 individuals, some wielding clubs and waving black flags emblazoned with skull and crossbones, clashed with police near the presidential palace. The melee saw rocks, bottles, and even fire bombs hurled at officers, resulting in about 70 wounded law enforcers and the arrest of 49 suspects. Schools in the vicinity were forced to close, and police deployed tear gas and water cannons to disperse the crowd. The attackers’ identities remained unclear, and authorities could not confirm whether they had earlier participated in the peaceful rallies.
The corruption scandal at the heart of the unrest centers on flood-control projects—vital infrastructure in a nation regularly battered by typhoons and monsoon floods. President Ferdinand "Bongbong" Marcos Jr. first brought the issue to national attention in his July 2025 State of the Nation Address, where he called out “rackets—kickbacks, initiatives, erratas, SOPs, ‘for the boys’” and declared, “Let’s stop pretending. The public widely knows such projects invite rackets… you should be ashamed of your fellow Filipinos!” (TIME). He subsequently ordered an audit of all flood-control projects undertaken since mid-2022, totaling 9,855 initiatives and a staggering 545 billion pesos (about $9.5 billion). The audit revealed that 20% of these projects were managed by just 15 contractors, with two-thirds lacking essential building details—a recipe for disaster, both literally and figuratively.
The public’s fury was further inflamed when, as reported by the Associated Press, a wealthy couple, Sarah and Pacifico Discaya, who own several construction companies that secured lucrative flood-control contracts, flaunted their collection of luxury European and American cars in media interviews. One British luxury car alone cost 42 million pesos (around $737,000), and the couple quipped they bought it for the free umbrella. Under mounting criticism, the Discayas identified at least 17 House legislators and public works officials during a televised Senate inquiry, alleging they were coerced into paying massive kickbacks to secure contracts. Their explosive testimony, along with revelations from a former government engineer implicating two senators, set off a cascade of investigations and resignations.
Senate President Francis Escudero and House Speaker Martin Romualdez both stepped down as both chambers of Congress faced mounting criticism. At least three government engineers were dismissed, 15 others placed under investigation, and criminal complaints filed. Public Works Secretary Vince Dizon also accepted his resignation. Authorities moved quickly to freeze the bank accounts, homes, cars, and other assets of those implicated, signaling an attempt to reassure a skeptical public that justice would be served.
But for many Filipinos, the damage was already done. Student activist Althea Trinidad from Bulacan—a flood-prone province where many of the questionable projects were located—spoke to the Associated Press about her anger: “I feel bad that we wallow in poverty and we lose our homes, our lives and our future while they rake in a big fortune from our taxes that pay for their luxury cars, foreign trips and bigger corporate transactions.” Sixteen-year-old Jasper Lota, also from Bulacan, echoed this frustration in TIME, asking why the powerful seem to evade justice while ordinary people are swiftly punished for minor offenses: “People get jailed so easily if they steal something as small as a bag of rice, the resolution comes so swiftly—but with this, why can’t the resolution come as fast?”
Calls for accountability and reform reverberated throughout the demonstrations. Cardinal Pablo Virgilio David, head of the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of the Philippines, urged the public to demonstrate peacefully, stating, “Our purpose is not to destabilize but to strengthen our democracy.” President Marcos Jr., for his part, appeared to support the protests, telling reporters on September 15, “Do you blame them for going out into the streets? If I wasn’t President, I might be out in the streets with them… Of course, they are enraged. Of course, they are angry. I’m angry. We should all be angry. Because what’s happening is not right.” (TIME)
The scandal has triggered a reckoning not only within the government but also among the public, sparking comparisons to mass movements across Asia in recent months. Sociologist Athena Charanne Presto told TIME that the ostentatious displays of wealth by those implicated—amplified by social media—“triggered a certain kind of awareness among social media-savvy Filipinos.” Netizens circulated images of officials’ children on lavish trips and in designer clothes, fueling resentment in a country where the law prohibits such displays by public officials and their families. The momentum for change, however, remains fragile. As Presto warned, if the public does not see real consequences, “accountability is just an abstract concept in the Philippines, that impunity wins again, and that will breed further disillusionment.”
Political observers note that the fallout has not only destabilized Congress but also exposed rifts among the country’s political dynasties. Richard Heydarian, a senior lecturer at the University of the Philippines, told TIME that the timing of the scandal—amid recent devastating floods—has made the issue even more emotionally charged. “We’re talking about flood control projects which are faulty, and that’s very much on display with all of these massive natural disasters and flooding in recent months.”
As the dust settles, the Philippine government faces mounting pressure to deliver real accountability. With mass protests echoing the People Power movements that toppled two presidents in the past, the coming months will test whether the country’s leaders can restore public trust—or whether, as many fear, the cycle of corruption and impunity will simply continue.