
The term “nepo babies” has been a fixture of social media chatter, but recent events have brought it into the realm of governance and law. What was once a discussion about privilege has now intersected with a larger concern — billions of pesos allocated for flood control that never materialized, while some public figures’ families display conspicuous wealth.
At the center of the issue are so-called “ghost projects” — government‑funded initiatives that exist only on paper. Between 2023 and 2025, these have cost the Philippine economy P118.5 billion, according to the Department of Finance (DOF). This loss not only affects the budget but also erodes opportunities for employment, weakens flood resilience, and undermines trust in government.
This raises a question beyond public outrage: if certain families benefit from such projects, whether directly or indirectly, can the law hold them accountable?
A ghost project refers to a publicly funded initiative that is either incomplete, unimplemented, or exists only on paper. This problem is especially acute for flood control programs, which safeguard lives, protect livelihoods, and prevent economic losses.
DOF Secretary Ralph Recto has described them as a drain on the nation’s resources. Between 2023 and 2025, the Department of Finance estimates these projects cost the economy between P42.3 billion and P118.5 billion, which are enough to create between 95,000 and 266,000 jobs.
To put this into perspective, P35.24 billion, within the range of these ghost project costs, is enough to fund the complete four‑year college education of about 1.7 million Filipino students, assuming an average tuition of over 1 million Filipino students, assuming that an average tuition fee of P20,000 per semester. This is equivalent to spending nearly P96.85 million every day for a year.
Furthermore, even if an individual spent P3 million daily, it would take more than 32 years to deplete that amount. This is not just a number—it’s a lost generation of students, missed infrastructure, and unfulfilled public services.
When these projects fail, the loss is not only financial. Communities remain vulnerable to floods, essential infrastructure is left undone, and public trust erodes. The concern grows deeper when those who benefit most are relatives of officials who oversee these funds.
This intersection of nepotism and corruption—where nepo babies may directly or indirectly benefit from missing public projects—raises the stakes. It is not just a question of privilege anymore. It becomes a legal and moral issue that demands examination under the law.
While students struggle to access free education, nepo babies flaunt wealth bought with stolen public funds. Ordinary learners scrape together coins for photocopies, endure broken chairs, and wade through floodwaters to reach school. Meanwhile, heirs of political dynasties post luxury cars, foreign trips, and designer bags online, funded not by merit, but by siphoned state resources.
In Bulacan, the ghost flood control projects exposed this stark reality. P5.97 billion went to non‑existent projects contracted to Wawao Builders, linked to the Discaya family. Taxpayers got nothing but floods, while the Discayas acquired 40 luxury cars, imported furniture, and properties worth millions. Between 2016 and 2025, the family cornered P31.035 billion in contracts, many of which collapsed or never functioned, leaving farmers without harvests and residents vulnerable to disease.
The Discayas are not alone. This extends across political families: influencer Gela Alonte, Claudine Co, Christine Lim, the Enciso sisters, and Jammy Cruz have all been named in public discourse as beneficiaries of this cycle. Different surnames, same pattern: siphon public funds, launder the image online, and call it “diskarte.”
This is the Philippines’ hidden scholarship program: taxpayers unwittingly funding dynasties that train their heirs in power and impunity. Every peso stolen from classrooms, hospitals, and flood projects reappears somewhere else — in luxury brands, vacations abroad, or condominium towers. For ordinary students, there is only broken promises. For nepo babies, there is inherited privilege.
Philippine law does not have a single statute addressing nepo babies. Still, several provisions could apply where relatives benefit from misuse of public funds: