For decades, the people of Mindanao have been promised development, inclusion, and a place in the nation’s grand plans. Yet, here we are again—left in the dark, ignored, and treated as second-class citizens in our own country. The latest blow? The Department of Transportation (DOTr) has confirmed that its proposed ₱197 billion budget for 2026 does not include a single peso for the Mindanao Railway Project (MRP).
This is not just a budgetary oversight—it is an outright betrayal.
During the Duterte administration, hope surged in Mindanao. For the first time, it seemed possible that the island would finally taste the benefits of modern transportation, a railway that would connect cities and communities, spur commerce, and ease the burden of travel for millions. Duterte, himself a son of Davao, made the railway project a centerpiece of his infrastructure promise. But railways are not built overnight. It was understood that the project would outlast his term and be carried forward by the next administration.
And yet, under President Ferdinand Marcos Jr., nothing has moved. The dream has been stalled, the feasibility studies endlessly “updated,” and the promises repeatedly shelved. Even the Chinese financing that was once tied to the project has been dropped, leaving Mindanao with empty rhetoric and no concrete progress.
Let’s put this in perspective: Luzon has North Rail, South Rail, East Rail, and West Rail. Metro Manila has multiple rail lines—all heavily subsidized by taxpayers’ money. And who pays those taxes? Every Filipino, including the 26 million Mindanaons who have yet to see a single inch of railway track on their island.
This is the painful irony—Mindanaons, who work hard and pay taxes like everyone else, are helping fund the convenience and connectivity of Metro Manila commuters. Billions are poured into subsidies to keep train fares in the capital low, while Mindanao is told to wait, again and again, for some future miracle of funding. As Congressman Rufus Rodriguez put it bluntly: “Maawa naman kayo. In Luzon, there is a North rail, an East rail, a West rail, and South rail. In Mindanao, not an inch of a rail.”
Is this fair? Is this just? How long must Mindanaoans endure the indignity of being excluded from projects that define modernity in the rest of the country?
Let’s be clear: This is not just about convenience. Railways mean progress. They connect economies, reduce transport costs, make travel safer, and open up opportunities for trade and tourism. Without it, Mindanao is being denied the infrastructure backbone that could transform its economy and uplift millions from poverty.
The government likes to talk about “inclusive growth.” But how can there be inclusivity when an entire island is left out of the nation’s transportation revolution? Updating feasibility studies is not progress—it is delay dressed up as action. It is the language of excuses, not commitment.
The truth is simple: Mindanao has been betrayed—again.
From the time the Mindanao Railway Project was first envisioned nearly two decades ago, it has been plagued with delays, cancellations, and broken promises. The Tagum-Davao-Digos Phase 1 was supposed to begin construction in 2019. By now, had the plans been honored, Mindanaoans could already be riding trains connecting their cities. Instead, they are stuck with congested highways, expensive fares, and dangerous commutes.
Meanwhile, billions continue to be allocated to rail projects in Luzon. The government claims there is no money, yet it finds ways to fund expansion after expansion in Metro Manila. The P122 billion budget for foreign-assisted projects under DOTr for 2026 does not allocate even ₱5 billion for the Mindanao Railway. Not one peso.
It’s not just a financial issue—it’s a moral one. To continually deny Mindanao its share of development is to reinforce the colonial mindset that all roads, rails, and resources must lead to Imperial Manila. This is why resentment festers. This is why the people of Mindanao feel forgotten, marginalized, and invisible in the eyes of a government that preaches unity but practices exclusion.
The Marcos administration still has time to prove that it does not view Mindanao as disposable. But time is running out. Mere lip service will no longer suffice. Mindanao does not need more feasibility studies, more press releases, or more empty promises. What it needs—what it deserves—is budget allocation, political will, and actual construction.
For too long, the message to Mindanao has been: “Wait your turn.” But after nearly two decades of waiting, how much longer must Mindanaons be patient? How many more years will an entire island be treated as though it is undeserving of the same modern infrastructure enjoyed by Luzon?
The Mindanao Railway is not just a project. It is a test of fairness, equality, and the government’s sincerity in treating all Filipinos as equals. And right now, the Marcos administration is failing that test.
History will remember these moments. It will remember whether leaders chose to invest in unity or perpetuate division. And if the government continues to abandon the Mindanao Railway Project, then it has chosen the latter.
For the 26 million Mindanaons who have been left behind, this is not just about trains. It is about dignity. It is about justice. It is about finally being treated not as second-class citizens, but as equal Filipinos.
Until then, every train that runs in Metro Manila is a painful reminder that Mindanao’s dreams of progress are still stuck at the station.