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The Hidden Cost of Unprogrammed Funds: How Budget Loopholes Derail Public Transport—and Drain Filipino Commuters

Image courtesy of Presidential Communications Office

Every weekday before dawn, John Philip, a 21-year-old college student from Caloocan, braces himself for what he calls his “daily battle”: the commute to Polytechnic University of the Philippines (PUP) in Sta. Mesa, Manila.

Once, it was simple—just a quick ride on the Philippine National Railways (PNR). Now? Two buses, one MRT ride, and ₱186 out of his daily allowance gone before lunch.

“Nakaka-drain. Nakaka-burn out siya,” he says, voice weary but resolute. “Hindi ka sa ginagawa mo mapapagod eh, sa biyahe.”

John Philip’s story echoes across Metro Manila—and beyond. Millions of Filipinos endure grueling commutes not because better systems don’t exist on paper, but because critical infrastructure projects remain stalled, underfunded, or mysteriously rerouted. At the heart of this dysfunction lies a controversial budgeting mechanism long criticized by economists, watchdogs, and reformists: unprogrammed appropriations.


What Are Unprogrammed Appropriations?

Under the Philippine budget system, unprogrammed appropriations are funds set aside in the General Appropriations Act (GAA) that can only be released when certain conditions are met—typically, the availability of new revenue sources like grants, loans, or unexpected income.

In theory, they act as fiscal buffers. In practice, critics argue they’ve become backdoors for political insertions, fund diversions, and unchecked spending—often without public scrutiny or clear timelines.

According to data from the Commission on Audit (COA) and the Philippine Institute for Development Studies (PIDS), unprogrammed funds have ballooned in recent years. In the 2025 national budget alone, over ₱400 billion was allocated as unprogrammed—roughly 18% of total national expenditures.

But here’s the catch: many of these funds are later “activated” through creative accounting, executive orders, or last-minute legislative maneuvers—bypassing rigorous project vetting and public consultation.


The Infrastructure Delay Domino Effect

One of the most glaring casualties? Mass transportation.

Take the Metro Manila Subway—a flagship project meant to revolutionize urban mobility with 33 kilometers of underground rail linking Valenzuela to NAIA and beyond. Originally slated for partial operations by 2028, delays now push full completion to 2032 or later.

Why?

“Because the money isn’t where it should be,” says Rep. Edgar Erice of Caloocan’s 2nd District, a veteran lawmaker with over five decades in public service.

In an exclusive interview, Rep. Erice didn’t mince words:

“I would submit na ito ang 2026 ay mas maayos… pero pinasok pa rin ‘yung unprogrammed appropriations na siyang pinagmulan ng pinakamalalaking korapsyon. Ang tawag ko diyan… the biggest, greatest heist in infrastructure and budget in the national budget!

He points to the 19th Congress, where over ₱1.45 trillion in budget insertions, amendments, and realignments occurred—many funneled through unprogrammed lines. “Never nangyari ‘yan sa mga nakaraang presidente,” he stresses. “At dahil sa delay, tataas ang presyo. Ang ordinaryong tao ang babayaran.”

And pay they do—not just in pesos, but in time, health, and opportunity.


The Human Toll: When Commuting Becomes a Crisis

For commuters like John Philip, the consequences are visceral:

  • Financial strain: Transportation eats up 30–50% of daily wages for minimum-wage earners and students alike.
  • Lost productivity: Average Metro Manila commuters spend 4–6 hours daily in transit—time that could be used for study, rest, or family.
  • Health impacts: Chronic stress, sleep deprivation, and exposure to pollution are rampant. A 2024 UP-NCPAG study linked poor transport access to rising anxiety among urban youth.
  • Economic exclusion: Those living in far-flung areas often skip job interviews or school days simply because they can’t afford the fare.

Meanwhile, stalled projects like the PNR North-South Commuter Railway Extension, BRT systems in EDSA and Quezon Avenue, and provincial bus terminals remain “perpetually under construction”—not due to engineering challenges, but funding gaps masked as bureaucratic delays.


A Pattern of Accountability Gaps

Transparency advocates warn that unprogrammed funds lack clear performance indicators. Unlike regular line-item budgets—which specify agencies, projects, and timelines—unprogrammed allocations often read like blank checks.

“The moment you label something ‘unprogrammed,’ you remove it from public tracking,” explains Dr. Liza Maza, former lead convenor of the National Anti-Poverty Commission. “It becomes easy to divert, inflate, or even ghost-project.”

COA reports from 2023–2025 reveal multiple instances where unprogrammed funds were released without verified revenue triggers—or worse, used for projects never included in original infrastructure plans.

Yet despite outcry, the mechanism persists. Why?

Political convenience.

Unprogrammed funds allow administrations to claim “fiscal prudence” during budget debates while retaining flexibility to reward allies, fast-track pet projects, or respond to crises—real or manufactured—without returning to Congress.


Is Reform Possible?

Hope flickers in the 2026 budget process. With a more assertive minority bloc in both the House and Senate—and heightened public scrutiny post-2025 elections—some legislators are pushing for stricter rules:

  • Mandatory sunset clauses: Unprogrammed funds expire if unused after 12 months.
  • Real-time disclosure: All releases must be published online within 48 hours.
  • Civil society co-monitoring: NGOs and transport groups given observer status in fund activation reviews.

But systemic change requires more than rules—it demands political will.

As Rep. Erice puts it: “Kung seryoso ang gobyerno sa serbisyo sa masa, bakit hindi i-prioritize ang subway, ang tren, ang bus lanes? Bakit laging may ‘surprise’ fund na parang ATM ng mga konektado?”


The Road Ahead

Back at the LRT-1 platform in Monumento, John Philip checks his watch. It’s 5:45 a.m. He’s already missed one train. Another 20-minute wait. His baon for the day: ₱200. Fare: ₱186. Lunch: ₱14—if he skips snacks.

He sighs. “Sana, isang araw, normal lang mag-commute. Parang sa Hong Kong, sinabi ni Cong. Erice. Sana.”

For millions like him, that dream remains tethered not to engineering limits—but to the integrity of a budget line buried in fine print.

Until then, the wheels of progress stay stuck in traffic… and in red tape.


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