The barangay is this country’s first line of defense against all threats to its stability and progress.
There are many thoughtful Filipinos who have always believed that the barangay is a superfluity in this country’s governmental structure, that the approval of the Barangay Act was a gross mistake and that public funds are wasted on barangay officials’ salaries and allowances.
This disclaim reaches its peak when discussions are held in Congress and elsewhere for the holding of the next barangay election.
I am not one of those Filipinos. I have always been a believer in the from-the-bottom-up structure of government, with the barangay as the nation’s first line of defense against all trends and movements that threaten the stability and progress of this country. If questionable trends and movements are spotted and dealt with at the barangay level, they need not become provincial or national problems. After all, municipalities and cities are made up of barangays, and whatever happens in the municipal and city halls should be known in the provincial capitals, assuming that mayors and governors are not sleeping on the job.
In recent years, things have taken place that have shaken to the core my belief in the concept of the barangay. But I have remained steadfast in my support for this country’s 42,000-plus barangays…until the Guo-Bamban-Porac episode.
That entire episode, which involved the construction of numerous first-class structures, with no cautionary reporting to higher authorities by the concerned barangay leaders, has shaken my belief in the barangay idea and my faith in barangay leaders.
Truth to tell, after the Guo-Bamban-Porac episode, I’m not at all sure if I still believe that barangays can, and will continue to function as Philippine society’s first line of defense. True, the Chinese woman masquerading as a Filipino headed Bamban’s government as mayor, but isn’t the Bamban municipal council made up of many members whose Filipino nationality has not been challenged?
What were they doing the whole time? Didn’t they wonder and were they not concerned about what was going on inside the mini-municipality, and who were occupying the buildings there? Why didn’t they exercise their visitorial authority and have a look at the sprawling compound?
The choice of Bamban and Porac as locations for the illegal operations of the pseudo-Filipino mayor and her business associates makes sense, of course. Bamban and Porac are sleepy, low-income municipalities of Tarlac and Pampanga, respectively. Located in the hinterlands of those provinces, illegal operations there would be less likely to attract the attention of the officialdoms in Tarlac City and San Fernando.
Which begs the question: Did the provincial officials of Tarlac and Pampanga have knowledge of the operations that were taking place in Bamban and Porac? Or, knowing about them, why did they not want to find out what was going on within their domains – particularly since large members of foreigners were involved? The Office of the Ombudsman might want to look at possible actionable culpabilities here.
The Guo-Bamban-Porac episode has come close on the heels of the Chocolate Hills scandal, in which a sprawling resort was installed in the close vicinity of the iconic Bohol site with the knowledge of the mayors and barangay officials of three Bohol municipalities. The barangay officials of the three municipalities were fully aware that construction of the resort was in progress, yet they did nothing to put a stop to the desecration – by alerting the provincial officials in Tagbilaran City, for instance – of the site, which is a UNESCO heritage site.
The barangay is this country’s first line of defense against all threats to its stability and progress. When they fail to function as such, as in the instance discussed here, it becomes appropriate to review the entire concept of the barangay as an instrument of this country’s governance.
