Zero-Cash, High Hopes: Inside the Philippines’ Ambitious 4PH Housing Gamble

A New Kind of Groundbreaking

The Pambansang Pabahay Para sa Pilipino program, known as 4PH, launched in 2022, seeks to eradicate informal settlements by marshaling government guarantees, state banks, and private builders to produce 6.5 million homes in six years. President Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. sold it as the answer to the country’s housing backlog. At glitzy groundbreaking ceremonies from Zamboanga to Valenzuela, officials tout “game-changing” strategies – zero down payment mortgages, condos for the price of shanties – and pledge that even low-wage families will get “decent yet affordable” homes. Developers are courted to join with little or no capital outlay, an almost magical proposition in real estate.

But as the concrete towers rise, so do questions. Can homes really be built “walang puhunan” (with no capital) for private developers? Who shoulders the cost – and the risk – in these seemingly too-good-to-be-true deals? Early cracks are also showing: delays in securing land, worries about empty “ghost” housing, and murmurs that the poorest Filipinos can’t actually afford these “affordable” units. The 4PH program’s narrative is unfolding as a mix of inspiring breakthroughs and cautionary tales, raising a bigger question: Is this massive housing push building a future for the poor, or just constructing new problems?

Building Homes with (Almost) No Money Down

Under the 4PH program, the Philippine government flips the traditional housing model. Instead of relying on private developers to acquire land, build units, and sell them for profit, agencies like the National Housing Authority (NHA) and Local Government Units (LGUs) act as developers. “No more developers. The government is the developer,” declared Housing Secretary Jerry Acuzar in 2024. By going straight to contractors and eliminating markups, DHSUD claims units can be delivered for around 1.4 million pesos — a fraction of typical private housing costs.

How It Works:

• Land as Equity: LGUs or private landowners provide land, reducing upfront costs. In Bacolod, the city contributed public land, while Scheirman Consortium agreed to build 10,000 units with the expectation of payment through future Pag-IBIG-funded buyers. In Zamboanga, Metro Stonerich Corp. used its own 14.45-hectare site to develop El Vinta Residencia, a 6,400-unit complex.
  

• Government-backed Loans: The Development Bank of the Philippines (DBP) offers 100% financing to LGUs and up to 80% to private developers, while Pag-IBIG Fund provides construction loans and end-user financing. In May 2025, Pag-IBIG funded nearly 8,000 units in cities like Valenzuela and Davao. This structure allows projects to start with little to no capital and ensures buyers can afford to take over once the units are built.
  

• No Down Payment for Buyers: Units are promoted as more affordable than rent, with monthly payments from 3,800 to 6,500 pesos and no down payment. Pag-IBIG offers 1% interest rates for the poorest families, with the government covering the difference. These terms have generated overwhelming interest, with thousands applying before construction even begins.
  

Ultimately, developers can participate with minimal investment, especially when LGUs lead and secure financing. Even private-initiated projects benefit if they contribute land or partner with public agencies. As one official put it, “Through 4PH, we’re not just building homes – we’re building hope.”

The LGU-Developer Dance: Land for a Lending Hand

At the heart of 4PH’s “zero-capital” pitch is a clever exchange: land for financing. Instead of spending on expensive lots, LGUs contribute public land, while private developers build housing at their own cost, confident they’ll recover investments through Pag-IBIG loans once units are sold.

In Bacolod, Mayor Benitez partnered with Scheirman Consortium to build 10,000 units. The city provided land and permits, while Scheirman financed construction — a classic public-private partnership. In Zamboanga, Metro Stonerich Corp. used its own 14-hectare property to launch the 6,400-unit El Vinta Residencia, again relying on Pag-IBIG financing and DHSUD support.

Other LGUs joined in. In Valenzuela, Mayor Wes Gatchalian broke ground on Progreso Village, a 9-building, 11-storey social housing complex on city-owned land. The NHA co-develops the project, and Gatchalian promotes it as “in-city housing”, avoiding the past’s distant relocation sites.

To accelerate growth, DHSUD encouraged even private landowners to donate or offer land, especially for areas with informal settlers. By mid-2025, 42 private developers pledged to build over 250,000 units, asking not for subsidies, but for faster permit approvals through one-stop centers.

Initially, some developers were skeptical — especially after Secretary Acuzar claimed “you do not need developers.” But now, with clearer guidelines, loan guarantees, and interest subsidies, many see 4PH as a low-risk, high-volume opportunity. As one contractor put it:

“We build, government buys, Pag-IBIG collects – we’re all happy if it works.”

The Risks of an All-Out Housing Blitz

While 4PH promises massive transformation, it also faces serious growing pains.

• Land Limitations: Despite executive orders pushing LGUs to identify public land, many cities—especially in Metro Manila—struggle to find suitable, safe, and centrally located sites. DHSUD has admitted that the lack of developable land is a persistent obstacle. Some projects stall before they begin. By late 2024, only 12,700 units were completed, far below the annual 1 million target.
  

• Capital vs. Reality: The 1 trillion pesos/year needed hasn’t materialized in the budget. To compensate, Marcos authorized sovereign guarantees for agencies like NHA to borrow. Pag-IBIG also offered a 12 billion pesos credit line for construction. But this debt-backed model still relies on buyers to pay. If units remain vacant or buyers default, the public ultimately bears the risk.
  

• Affordability Gaps: While the program targets informal settlers, many are too poor to qualify. A 2025 study by urban poor groups showed that 1.7 million of the lowest-income families can’t afford even the minimum 4,000 pesos monthly amortization. Even with 1% subsidized interest rates, payments still exceed the ability of many families. One activist said, “Even before the project begins, the poorest are already disqualified.”
  

• Quality Concerns: With thin margins and government squeezing costs, some contractors have withdrawn or rushed builds. CREBA warned that cut-rate pricing could lead to poor-quality, unsafe units. Transparent bidding and better construction standards are essential to avoid repeating past failures like the substandard Yolanda housing.
  

• Social Acceptance: The government assumes that urban poor families will readily relocate into these new homes. But past relocations have failed due to distance from jobs or poor conditions. If new 4PH buildings are poorly located or lack services, they risk becoming empty "ghost towns", a political liability. Some projects—like in Tondo—aim for on-site relocation, a more promising model.

Hopes, Fears, and Homecomings

Despite its many hurdles, 4PH has produced real human victories. In December 2024, Bacolod City handed over new mid-rise units in Arao Heights to families from flood-prone barangays. Some wept as Mayor Benitez gave them their certificates — a concrete home with electricity and water was once unthinkable for many. “This is a legacy,” the city’s housing chief said, affirming the dignity of homeownership. In Zamboanga, interest in 4PH units was so high that a lottery system had to be considered. “This is about reshaping the future of urban Zamboanga,” said Engineer Muhammad Urau.

At the same time, reality is setting in. DHSUD admitted in late 2024 that the initial target of 1 million homes per year was too ambitious — they now aim for 3.2 million units by 2028, a scaled-down but still significant goal. Developers who were hesitant are now more engaged, pledging 250,000 units and proposing workable reforms like faster permitting and 99-year land leases (usufruct) to reduce costs for buyers. Such policies could be the difference between a family paying 4,000 pesos or 2,000 pesos monthly — a life-changing margin.

But activists warn that 4PH risks repeating past mistakes. Eufemia “Mimi” Doringo of Kadamay argues that prices are still out of reach for the poorest, and eligibility requirements exclude informal workers. “Even with assistance, they can only stay in these homes for one or two months,” she said. Her group has yet to see a single successful move-in from the most vulnerable. They propose “People’s Plan” models and even free housing for the very poor — funded the same way land reform was once subsidized.

As 4PH heads deeper into 2025, it stands at a critical turning point. The vision is compelling: cities without slums, safe homes for working families, and equity in urban growth. The cranes are rising, the units are coming. But the challenge remains: will the poorest be part of the story — or left watching from the outside?

Because in the end, housing is more than concrete. It’s stability. It’s opportunity. It’s dignity. The future of 4PH will be measured not just in units built, but in lives changed — or not. The answer lies not in ribbon cuttings, but in the everyday realities of families across the Philippines, hoping that this time, the door stays open.