Swimming With Crocodiles: Vince Dizon’s Impossible DPWH Mission

I was halfway through my first cup of coffee when Ted Failon and DJ Chacha went live with Vince Dizon. He sounded calm, measured, almost like he had the whole plan in his pocket. But the more he spoke, the heavier it felt.

Here was a man stepping into DPWH, a department so used to corruption that people just sigh and say, ganyan talaga ang patakbo. And as I listened, I kept thinking: is this confidence, or the kind of optimism you need when you’re walking straight into a den of crocodiles?

The truth is, Marcos didn’t give him an office — he handed him a test that had swallowed secretaries before him. And this time, the whole country is listening for cracks in his voice.

What Dizon Walked Into

The numbers don’t lie. Flood control money didn’t just grow, it exploded: from ₱64 billion in 2016 to ₱590 billion by 2024–2025 (Inquirer, PCO). But the rivers and dikes on the ground don’t match the spending.

That’s because this isn’t just mismanagement. It’s a system. A 21-year culture of corruption so ingrained that insiders joke, ganyan talaga eh, ganyan talaga ang patakbo (Inquirer Opinion).

Here’s how it works: COA auditors skim 3–4% of every contract, politicians take as much as 30%, and companies with only ₱250,000 in capital still walk away with billion-peso projects (ABS-CBN).

The concentration is staggering. Out of 2,409 accredited contractors, only 15 cornered ₱100 billion worth of projects — nearly a fifth of the entire flood budget from July 2022 to May 2025 (PCO). Public funds aren’t scattered across the country. They’re funneled into the hands of a tiny circle.

Ghosts, Licenses, and Bad Coordinates

Some of the scams don’t even bother with half-built projects. They go straight to ghosts. In Bulacan, the Commission on Audit flagged four flood control projects worth ₱390 million. Contractors were fully paid, but satellite images showed nothing ever stood on those sites (GMA). Paperwork says complete. The ground says empty.

Then there’s license renting. Small firms that could never qualify on their own “borrow” credentials from legitimate contractors. On paper, the bids look clean. In reality, unqualified operators are running billion-peso jobs with borrowed names (ABS-CBN).

Even the data itself can’t be trusted. The Multi-Year Programming and Scheduling tool and the Project Contract Management Application — both supposed to track projects — are filled with falsified coordinates and specifications. Oversight teams start with lies before they even set foot on a site (InsiderPH).

When the foundation of your records is fake, you’re not auditing projects anymore. You’re auditing fiction.

Politics in the Plumbing

Inside DPWH, the money trail loops back to Congress. Budget insertions don’t start and end in one room. They move from the NEP, to House and Senate versions, to the bicam. DPWH officials even “invite” lawmakers during the budget call to slot projects in. Without transparency, the insertions multiply (Inquirer).

On the payoff side, sworn testimonies put numbers on the table. Former DPWH engineer Brice Hernandez said senators got 30% once flood projects appeared in the GAA and even in unprogrammed funds. He named Jinggoy Estrada and Joel Villanueva, citing amounts and delivery in cash (AP News, SunStar). Both senators deny the accusations, and the probes are ongoing (Manila Times, Inquirer).

These aren’t chismis. Hernandez testified under oath at a House hearing, with figures like ₱355 million tied to the 30% cut in one case. The Discaya contractors also submitted sworn statements in the Senate, saying they were pressured for illicit payments (SCMP, YouTube – House hearing).

Names at the top surfaced too. The Discayas said fixers and officials sometimes name-dropped House Speaker Martin Romualdez and ally Zaldy Co as supposed beneficiaries. Congressman Kiko Barzaga said he had “some personal knowledge” about Romualdez, on national TV (GMA). Romualdez has since resigned as House Speaker amid the storm and budget issues, while Marcos says he won’t interfere with investigations, even if allies are involved (PhilStar, PNA, YouTube).

This is Dizon’s bind. He has to clean up the pipelines while working with the same lawmakers who approve his budget, including unprogrammed funds that appear when politics wants them to. One wrong move can fix a problem in DPWH and break something in Malacañang.

Dizon’s Playbook, On Paper

Marcos didn’t just give Vince Dizon a title. He gave him a broom and told him to sweep an entire department. The order was blunt: a “clean sweep” of DPWH leadership (PCO).

Dizon’s first move was drastic — courtesy resignations from undersecretaries down to district engineers, thousands of officials told to clear their desks while investigators sort who stays and who goes (PCO).

He also slashed the 2026 DPWH budget by ₱252 billion, cutting off funds for locally funded flood projects that had long been feeding the system (GMA).

Then came the weekly target: at least one corruption case filed every seven days. Within weeks, 26 names were already in the docket (PNA).

And he isn’t stopping at case files. Dizon has ordered lifestyle checks and property probes for officials and contractors tied to irregular flood projects. Early signs show it’s not just talk — investigators have already moved on assets, from SUVs to multimillion-peso homes (YouTube).

The message is clear: cut the budget, file the cases, trace the assets. But the question lingers — how long before this playbook collides with the very people still sitting in power?

The Independent Commission

Even Malacañang seemed to know DPWH couldn’t clean itself up. So they set up the Independent Commission for Infrastructure (ICI) — a team outside the department with the teeth to investigate. It’s led by retired Justice Andres Reyes Jr., with former DPWH Secretary Rogelio Singson, external auditor Rossana Fajardo, and Baguio Mayor Benjamin Magalong as special investigator (PCO, PhilStar).

Their powers aren’t small. Subpoena. Asset freezes. Full access to records. And they wasted no time showing it. Former DPWH engineer Brice Hernandez walked in with “relevant revelations” and turned over a ₱12 million GMC Denali. He promised to surrender a ₱58 million Ferrari and a ₱30–40 million Lamborghini next (SunStar).

The commission isn’t working on a short leash either. Its mandate runs for ten years — a recognition that what they’re chasing isn’t one-off anomalies but a parallel economy built on public works funds (NewsWatchPlus).

It’s early days, but one thing is already clear: for the first time in decades, DPWH corruption has a watchdog that doesn’t report to DPWH.

Receipts Matter

Talk is cheap. What people will look for are receipts.

That means finished projects that exist not just on paper but on the ground, with coordinates that match reality and structures that don’t crumble after the first heavy rain. It means contractors blacklisted for fraud staying blacklisted, not popping back up under new names (PCO).

It also means court cases that don’t end as press conferences. Dizon’s promise of filing at least one case a week will only matter if those cases survive the legal process and land convictions, not just headlines (PNA).

And then there’s the assets. Lifestyle checks and property seizures aren’t just symbols — they’re proof that the money is coming back. The early surrender of luxury cars by DPWH insiders showed what accountability can look like when investigators press hard enough (YouTube).

In the end, the public won’t measure reform by the number of resignations or new commissions. They’ll measure it by whether the roads, bridges, and dikes actually stand. And they’ll keep count: 26 people now face charges, some already behind bars, with millions in cash and property clawed back into government hands (PNA, YouTube).

The Part We Don’t Like Talking About

Dizon’s resume explains why Marcos tapped him. He’s delivered projects before, and he’s managed crises. But his record isn’t spotless, and pretending it is would be dishonest.

The New Clark City project pushed through under his watch displaced Aeta communities. Indigenous groups and rights advocates protested, saying development came at the expense of people who had lived there for generations (Inquirer, TV5, Wiley).

Then there was the ₱55 million cauldron built for the 2019 SEA Games, a structure critics slammed as wasteful and symbolic of skewed spending priorities (SunStar).

These moments reveal a pattern. Dizon gets things done, but the trade-offs aren’t always clean. Efficiency comes first. Social cost, second. And that’s the part we don’t like talking about. Because while he may have the skill to cut through DPWH corruption, his history shows he’s also willing to push forward even when communities or optics take the hit.

My Takeaway

I keep going back to that morning with my coffee and the Dizon interview playing on the radio. He sounded confident, almost too calm for the storm inside DPWH.

But confidence won’t matter if the structures keep collapsing after every rain. What matters now are the receipts — the projects that stand, the cases that stick, the money that returns to the people.

I don’t clap for press cons. I look at concrete that survives the flood.

The bigger question is this: if Dizon can’t crack a system that has thrived for more than two decades, who ever will?