There is an intriguing question hiding beneath Metro Manila’s recurring floods: What happens to the garbage after the garbage truck picks it up?

It sounds like a simple question.

It isn’t.

Every day, private contractors are paid to collect, haul, and dispose of thousands of tons of garbage generated by cities and municipalities. The system involves public money, private companies, trucks, drivers, transfer stations and landfills.

There should, in theory, be a straightforward trail.

The government pays the contractor.

The contractor collects the garbage.

The garbage truck transports it.

The waste arrives at an authorized disposal facility.

The landfill records the delivery.

The transaction is complete.

But what if that trail breaks somewhere in between?

That is where the story becomes interesting.

There have been allegations in other government-contracting sectors that political “shares” or kickbacks can consume substantial portions of project revenues. In the ongoing flood-control controversy, for example, allegations have surfaced of political shares reaching 20% to 30% of project values. These allegations remain contested and should not automatically be applied to the waste-disposal industry.

But the question is worth asking:

Does a similar system exist in garbage disposal?

I have not found credible published evidence establishing that waste-disposal contractors routinely pay local politicians 20% or 30%.

And that is precisely why the allegation deserves investigation rather than assumption.

Because the economics of garbage disposal are unforgiving.

A contractor has to pay employees, maintain trucks, purchase fuel, comply with environmental regulations and, in legitimate operations, pay disposal or tipping fees at authorized facilities.

If additional unofficial costs are being imposed on contractors, every peso taken from the operation puts pressure somewhere else.

And that creates a potentially dangerous incentive.

If a contractor is being squeezed between the government contract price and the actual cost of legal disposal, where does the contractor make up the difference?

Does the company simply accept a smaller profit?

Does it absorb the loss?

Does it cut operating expenses?

Or does somebody decide that the cheapest disposal facility is no longer the landfill—but the nearest creek, estero, vacant property or riverbank?

That last possibility is not something that should be asserted without evidence.

But it is a question that government can answer.

And it can answer it relatively easily.

Take Parañaque.

The city has had enormous quantities of silt and waste removed from its waterways. More than 330,000 metric tons of silt and waste were reportedly removed from around eight kilometers of Parañaque’s river channels since September 2024.

The MMDA has also deployed trash traps because solid waste entering waterways can clog drainage systems and pumping stations and worsen flooding.

So the question is no longer simply:

Why are residents throwing garbage into the river?

The more sophisticated question is:

How much of the garbage entering our waterways originates from ordinary household disposal—and how much could be coming from commercial or contracted waste operations?

That distinction matters.

Because if a private contractor is being paid to dispose of garbage properly, but significant quantities of that garbage somehow end up in an estero, then someone has potentially been paid twice:

First, to collect and dispose of the garbage.

And then taxpayers may have to pay again to remove the same garbage from the waterway.

That is the ultimate absurdity.

The public pays to collect the garbage.

The public potentially pays to clean it out of the river.

And if flood-control infrastructure is damaged or overwhelmed by the waste, the public pays again.

Three payments for the same garbage.

This is why the government should conduct a forensic audit of waste-disposal contracts in flood-prone cities.

Not a political investigation.

A data investigation.

Start with the contracts.

How much did the city pay each contractor?

Then examine the tonnage.

How many tons was each contractor supposed to collect?

Then follow the trucks.

Where did they go?

GPS records can establish the route.

Then check the landfill.

How many tons did the contractor actually deliver?

The landfill should have weighbridge records.

Then compare the numbers.

If the contractor was paid to dispose of 1,000 tons but the authorized landfill received only 600, where did the other 400 tons go?

That is not a political question.

That is an accounting question.

And accounting leaves fingerprints.

Government should also examine whether contractors are financially viable under their existing contracts.

What are their actual operating costs?

How much are they paying in legitimate disposal fees?

How much do they spend on fuel and labor?

How much profit remains?

And are there unexplained payments to intermediaries, consultants, political operators or other entities?

Again, this does not mean every unexplained payment is a bribe.

But unexplained payments deserve explanations.

The Philippines has already learned, through the flood-control controversy, what happens when enormous amounts of public infrastructure spending are surrounded by allegations of political intervention and kickbacks.

We should not wait for a “garbage scandal” to discover that the same vulnerabilities exist in waste management.

Because garbage is not merely an environmental issue.

It is a procurement issue.

It is a public-finance issue.

It is a governance issue.

And ultimately, it is a flood-control issue.

The irony is impossible to miss.

Government is proposing more than ₱107 billion for DPWH flood-control projects in 2027 while cities continue spending money removing garbage from the very waterways that are supposed to carry rainwater away from communities.

You cannot solve flooding simply by building more concrete.

Sometimes the most important flood-control project is simply making sure that the garbage gets to the landfill.

So perhaps the next investigation should not begin with the question:

“Who dumped this garbage?”

It should begin with:

“Who was paid to dispose of it?”

Then follow the money.

Follow the truck.

Follow the garbage.

And see whether all three end up in the same place.

Because if they don’t, we may have discovered a completely different chapter in the country’s corruption story.

The garbage trail may lead somewhere the floodwater already knows how to find.