Plan B

About 40 percent of all barangay captains are involved in illegal drug deals, President Duterte said last week.

As of Sept. 30, 2015, there were 42,036 barangays. That means at least 16,800 village chiefs are dirty. We’re presuming that the 40 percent does not include other barangay officials – council members and security personnel.

Some of the village officials have been shot dead or arrested in connection with the ongoing war on drugs. But 16,800 is a lot of dead bodies. As Dirty Rody has openly mused, with a tone of regret, “I can’t kill them all.”

So his Plan B, or Oplan Barangay, is to get rid of everyone without bloodshed. Last night senators held a caucus on the President’s wish to declare all barangay captains’ positions vacant so that he can appoint replacements who will serve as officers-in-charge until village elections can be held.

Du30 says he doesn’t want the village chiefs to use drug money to get themselves reelected, thus entrenching narco politics.

Considering developments in recent months, Du30’s assessment of the drug problem may not be overblown, although the response is overkill (sorry, the pun is irresistible). So he has a point in not wanting the same faces back in the barangay offices.

Many communities in this country are well knit and know or suspect who are the drug abusers and pushers in the neighborhood. If barangay personnel were doing their job instead of loafing around or dipping their hands into the drug trade themselves, the drug problem wouldn’t have reached its current proportions.

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The village chiefs are serving in a holdover capacity following the postponement of the barangay elections last October. The President wants to tap civil society and the Church for nominations. Each nominee must meet three criteria: no connection with rebels, no involvement in illegal drugs, and no connections with politicians.

While at it, Duterte and his allies should review the barangay system itself. There are village officials who are involved not only in drugs but also in jueteng and other illegal numbers games. Village officials are supposed to assist the police in keeping neighborhoods safe, but are instead doing the opposite.

In urban centers, barangay officials abet squatting instead of preventing it as mandated by law, serving as landlords in shantytowns. In crowded Metro Manila, they aggravate traffic jams by blocking sidewalks and even streets with structures or activities for personal or partisan purposes.

Barangays are supposed to bring government to the grassroots. A number of barangay officials represent the worst of government: negligence in keeping neighborhoods clean and safe, corruption and abuse of power.

Anyone who has ever tried doing business in this country, from the smallest home-based micro entrepreneur to the largest investor, is certain to run into red tape and layers of redundant and frivolous fees imposed by barangays for every imaginable reason. And where does the money go? Not to improve basic services. Perhaps the money serves as seed fund for the shabu business, or for jueteng or sakla and masiao operations.

Red tape at the barangay level is a persistent complaint of investors both local and foreign.

In the city of Manila, barangay personnel (they wear uniforms) collect parking fees in several areas without issuing any official receipt, which means there is no auditing, no public accountability, and everything goes to the collectors’ own pockets. They also collect protection money from ambulant vendors.

We can’t even say there oughta be a law because the laws are there, and such unauthorized fund-raising is a criminal offense. Yet it is done with impunity, under the noses of city officials.

If people are frustrated with government, barangay officials bear much of the blame.

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Aside from dismantling the drug network at the barangay level, the President and his congressional allies should develop measures to promote transparency, accountability and improved service among village personnel.

Every fee imposed by each barangay even for the use of public toilets must be covered by an official receipt, and cleared with the city or municipal government. This is to avoid redundant fees whose use by the barangay isn’t even subject to auditing.

Village officials must be subjected to periodic performance reviews, based on the delivery of basic services in their jurisdictions, and a system of rewards and sanctions developed.

The government must set up a mechanism that will encourage the public to anonymously alert higher authorities about abuses and lapses committed by barangay officials, without fear of reprisals. Social media and the internet can be used for this, with abuses reported in real time. When the mechanism is in place, higher authorities must make sure the public is fully informed about its existence and effective use.

The biggest problem is whether there is political will to act on the complaints.

The abuses have become prevalent because barangay officials serve as leaders at the grassroots of local politicians and political parties. Mayors, vice mayors, governors, vice governors, congressmen, officials of political parties – they all look the other way even when confronted with reports of criminal activities, incompetence and unauthorized fund-raising conducted by their barangay leaders.

As in much of politics, the prevailing attitude among higher officials is that a barangay captain may be an SOB, but as long as he’s the officials’ SOB, he’s OK.

President Duterte is fully aware of this, and would have to persuade his allies to jettison their erring grassroots leaders.

He can argue that his Plan B will enjoy public support. Many of those in the 40 percent may even welcome Plan B; it’s better than ending up in a gutter with their hands tied behind their backs and their heads wrapped in plastic and duct tape.

At this point, if the President decides to do away with the barangay system, it would hardly be missed, except by the village personnel themselves, their relatives and cronies.