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THERE is
so much debate these days over whether the drive against
corruption is getting anywhere. If you listen to the
government, the Presidential Antigraft Commission will
tick off dozens of cases it has disposed of—especially
those officials it had recommended for prosecution
because they could not justify their wealth, or against
whom prima facie case of wrongdoing has been found.
You’ll
hear a similar litany of reports from the Ombudsman; the
Department of Finance, through its Revenue Integrity
Protection Service and Run After Tax Evaders programs,
has its own list of big and medium fish caught in the
hook of good governance.
Government critics, on the other hand, keep saying that
the long arm of the law has not really caught yet the
proverbial big fish, and that all the big scams
unearthed in the past five years or so remain
unprosecuted.
Whatever
view or whatever side of the fence one sits, however,
there’s one case compelling of attention, which started
to surface nearly a decade ago, but remains unresolved
until now. The case involves the collection of lahar
quarry fees imposed by the local government of Pampanga
on private business, mostly in construction.
For
years, critics of the Lapid empire—the former
governor-now-senator Lito, and Mark, his son who
succeeded him but lost in the last elections—have
alerted the public to the millions of lahar quarry fees
that they said should be collected, but aren’t going to
the provincial coffers. Instead, on average, the local
government was only reflecting an income of an average
P30,000 to P50,000 a day from those scooping up
Pampanga’s lahar.
Well,
the question about how much the local government should
really be earning from imposing these fees was just
about settled recently with the assumption to office of
newly elected governor “Among” Ed Panlilio. Under him,
the province started getting an average P1 million in
daily fees—yes, P1 million, or more than 20 times what
it got in the past.
Undeniably, every civil servant accused of wrongdoing
deserves his day in court. The Lapids deserve to be
heard—they have repeatedly denied pocketing the fees,
but the problem in the past was the physical,
circumstantial evidence, i.e., the huge houses and other
properties that conceivably could not have been afforded
by an ordinary millionaire.
Meanwhile, experts of all stripes debate the best means
for confirming corruption in government, prosecuting the
culprits and restoring to the government—nay, the
people—what is truly theirs. Especially in these days of
fiscal tightness and scarce resources for development.
Sometimes, the clues are just there. |