Today is a good day to take stock of our complicated relationship with our basic government unit, the barangay, and its youth arm, the Sangguniang Kabataan (SK), as millions of voters descend on precincts to elect their community leaders for the next three years.
It’s a complicated relationship for a number of reasons, chief of which is the yawning disconnect between what the barangay and the SK represent in theory—nonpartisan public service at the grassroots level—and what they often are in practice—a breeding ground for corruption and patronage.
Let’s consider a few examples: In June 2018, the chair and two councilors in a Caloocan barangay were found guilty of graft over anomalies in the procurement of supplies.
In September 2020, 89 village chiefs were suspended for irregularities in the distribution of pandemic cash aid. In May 2021, the Sandiganbayan upheld the conviction on corruption charges of a barangay chair in Manila for taking out personal loans in the barangay’s name.
Many SK officials are apparently learning from their elders.
An August 2013 study by scholars from Mindanao State University-Iligan Institute of Technology Philippines found that SK officials in Iligan City were aware of the forms of graft and corrupt practices under the law. “However … most of them admitted to have been involved in any of the following irregular acts: malversation of public funds, evasion of public bidding in the purchase of supplies and equipment, forgery, bribery, making ghost projects and payrolls, abuse of powers, among others,” the study found.
Corruption within the SK, according to the study, stems mainly from bureaucratic dysfunctions “especially in the delay of budget releases and political socialization with older and corrupt barangay officials who passed on the techniques of corruption to the young leader informants.”
Let’s take a moment to ask why: Is it because these political sub-groupings are a microcosm of the government itself, thereby reflecting all the ills of our rotten political system and its dynasties? Or because the system is so conducive to misbehavior that it births bad barangay or SK heads who then go on to become bad mayors, governors, or presidents?
We understand that it’s unfair to paint all 42,027 barangay councils and an equal number of SK with the same brush, as many of them may actually hold true to the original vision for village and youth empowerment under the Local Government Code of 1991.
The Code states that the barangay “serves as the primary planning and implementing unit of government policies, plans, programs, projects, and activities in the community, and as a forum wherein the collective views of the people may be expressed, crystallized and considered, and where disputes may be amicably settled.”
It is our court of first resort, where troublemakers are brought, or, as the vernacular goes, “ipina-barangay,” to talk it out, as the neighborhood bears witness so that matters are kept out of the police station or the prosecutor’s office.
Of course, the barangay and the SK have other functions. Basic services from the national government are delivered through them. They may also launch their own projects, like street cleanups or medical missions.
Today’s election promises to be a well-attended one, one of the few things the Filipino electorate can be counted on consistently. The Commission on Elections expects a 75-percent turnout of 67.8 million voters registered to vote in the barangay elections and 23.25 million in the SK polls.
Some 1.4 million candidates are running, 96,962 of them for barangay chair, and 92,774 for SK chair. But the campaigning has grown so heated in some places that the Philippine National Police has validated 26 poll-related acts of violence, including at least eight killed and seven wounded. Some 361 barangays have been tagged as areas of grave concern.
One wonders why people would go to such extreme lengths for local posts that don’t even pay a regular salary but a modest honorarium. Assuming funds are available, barangay chairs get about P33,000 under Salary Grade 14 while other members and the SK chairs, around P22,000 under Salary Grade 10.
But more disturbing is the fact that some 27,500 candidates are running unopposed.
Either these areas are so firmly in the grip of the dynasties in power that any competition is stifled, or there’s so little interest or ambition among the people to serve and shepherd their own communities.
This is unfortunate because, despite their failings and dysfunctions, the barangay and the SK remain important platforms for a new breed of public servants disenchanted by how they are being governed to step into politics themselves, propelled by patriotism and a hankering for change.
For that promise alone of infusing much-needed young blood into our government, we implore our voters to choose well today. The future of local—and national—governance in our country may well be riding on it.