In recent days, many readers have written to this column expressing a growing concern: that the unfolding controversy surrounding questionable flood-control projects risks being pushed aside by louder headlines — from the escalating tensions between the United States-Israel alliance and Iran to the constant churn of domestic political drama, including impeachment talks and other pressing national issues.

It is a pattern Filipinos know too well. Public outrage erupts, investigations begin, and then attention quietly shifts elsewhere. Those implicated often count on precisely that cycle, wagering that the country’s notoriously short political memory will eventually blur the details and dull the demand for accountability.

The messages we received carry a simple plea: that this column continues to keep the issue in the public eye, not as an act of advocacy but as a reminder that infrastructure funded by taxpayers deserves scrutiny long after the news cycle has moved on. Accountability, after all, rarely arrives on its own; it must be sustained by public attention.

The subtle strength of a column like Vantage Point lies in its ability to amplify more than just this writer’s personal perspective, but to serve as a platform to echo the vital, yet often unheard, concerns of others.

Over the past weeks, readers with verified email addresses, have written to this space in response to our earlier investigation into the controversial flood-control projects in Naujan, Mindoro. One message in particular came from someone who originated from the province and now works in Metro Manila. Her letter captures precisely why public scrutiny matters. She did not write in the language of legal briefs or engineering reports, but from the perspective of an ordinary citizen who expects something very simple from the government: competence, accountability and honesty.

The reader, Arlene Raagas, reached out after reading our earlier column on the controversial road-dike project along the Mag-Asawang Tubig River. What she pointed out deserves attention — not because it settles the issue, but because it highlights the kind of questions that citizens themselves are now asking about how a P289.5-million flood control project could have unfolded in plain sight, with local officials now claiming they knew little about it. 

The project itself has already drawn the attention of investigators and has become part of litigation now being handled by multiple divisions of the Sandiganbayan. What is startling, according to Arlene, is the explanation offered by Naujan Mayor Henry Joel Teves, who reportedly told the Independent Commission for Infrastructure (ICC) that the municipal government could not comply with a subpoena requesting project documents because it had none to provide. According to the mayor’s statement, no building permit was issued to contractor Sunwest Inc. because no permit application was filed with the municipality in the first place.

In other words, the local government’s defense rests on a curious claim: that a major flood control structure was constructed inside its jurisdiction without the municipal government being formally involved in the permitting process.

For anyone familiar with how infrastructure is typically implemented in the Philippines, the claim raises immediate questions. Even when projects are funded and supervised by the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH), coordination with local governments is normally unavoidable. Heavy equipment must move through municipal roads. Construction activities affect barangays. Local engineering offices monitor compliance with zoning and safety rules. And politically, infrastructure projects are rarely invisible events; they are often treated as milestones proudly displayed before constituents.

The reader expressed disbelief at the notion that a project of such scale could proceed without the knowledge of the municipal leadership. Her reaction reflects a widely shared reality in local politics: when infrastructure projects are launched, politicians are usually eager to be associated with them. Groundbreaking ceremonies, ribbon cuttings, and site inspections are not rare occurrences — they are almost always expected. This is why the present claim of official ignorance appears difficult to reconcile with the political culture surrounding infrastructure development.

What complicates the narrative further is the presence of earlier public communications attributed to Mayor Teves himself. As early as 2023, posts from his official social media channels described a planned flood-control initiative along the Mag-Asawang Tubig River — an esplanade-style road-dike spanning barangays San Andres, Tagumpay and Inarawan, with a design likened to the Roxas Boulevard baywalk.

These publicly available descriptions, which this column has reviewed, bear a striking resemblance in location, concept and timing to the project now under investigation. Whether they refer to the same undertaking or to separate phases of a broader flood mitigation plan is a matter that only complete project documentation can clarify. But the alignment is precise enough to raise a more fundamental question: how does a project publicly described at the conceptual level later surface as administratively undocumented?

If those posts accurately describe the same project now under investigation, then the narrative of municipal unfamiliarity becomes harder to explain.

Beyond the political optics lies a more technical issue involving permitting requirements. Under Section 301 of the National Building Code of the Philippines, contractors undertaking construction activities are typically required to secure the appropriate permits and coordinate with local authorities. While certain national infrastructure works may follow specialized procedures, the spirit of the rule is straightforward: local governments must be cognizant of major projects inside their jurisdiction because of their impact on local land use, public safety, and development planning.

In practice, this coordination usually occurs long before concrete is poured or earth is moved.

This is where the Naujan controversy shifts from a narrow technical issue to a broader governance question. If the municipal government truly had no records of permits, it raises the possibility that proper coordination may not have taken place. But if local officials were in fact aware of the project and are now distancing themselves from it, the issue becomes one of accountability rather than oversight.

Either scenario suggests a troubling gap in the system.

Further complicating the timeline is the municipal administrative structure during the period when the project was reportedly underway. The position of municipal administrator — an office responsible for overseeing day-to-day coordination across municipal departments — was held at the time by Stephanie “Phanie” Teves-Wong, the mayor’s daughter. Her tenure reportedly lasted from August 2023 until September 2024, when she stepped down to pursue an electoral campaign elsewhere.

Municipal administrators are typically tasked with supervising the operational machinery of local government. Their offices coordinate departments, facilitate project implementation, and ensure that municipal policies are carried out effectively. While this arrangement is not uncommon in Philippine politics, it does raise legitimate questions about how information flowed within the municipal government during the period when the flood control project was executed.

By themselves, these questions do not prove guilt. However, they do emphasize the critical need for transparency in public infrastructure projects.

Flood control systems are not symbolic projects. They are built to protect lives, homes and livelihoods in communities that regularly face the threat of heavy rains and overflowing rivers. When such projects become entangled in allegations of irregularities or administrative confusion, the public deserves clear explanations — not evasive narratives about missing permits or absent records.

This is precisely why reader engagement matters. Citizens often see details that formal investigations only uncover later. Their observations become early signals of problems that might otherwise remain buried beneath official paperwork.

In this case, a reader’s letter simply raised a question that many others are now starting to ask: how does a P289.5-million flood control project advance in a municipality whose own leadership claims it had no idea it was happening? – Rappler.com

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