PhilHealth, the most despicable betrayal against the poor

Stealing, whether committed by a hungry street urchin roaming the alleys during a pandemic, or perpetrated by men and women in suits, who rob the peoples' money using clever schemes and sneaky machinations, are both reprehensible in the eyes of God. But the merciful Father looks with compassion at the poor and with abomination at the rascals in luxurious clothing.

In today's Gospel of Saint Matthew (Matt.18: 21-35), we are asked to forgive seventy times seven. I ask forgiveness to the Lord, but I think I cannot forgive as yet what PhilHealth has done to us poor and powerless. Listening to the testimonies in the investigations by both houses of Congress, I am seething with anger and biting my lips in pain and extreme disillusionment. I have been contributing my blood money to this highly-mismanaged white elephant since the Medicare days in the ‘70s and ‘80s when I worked in San Miguel, Pepsi Cola, Petron, and also in the government. I must have contributed to the coffers of this most mismanaged agency some hundreds of thousands.

All I got from PhilHealth are disappointments, anger, resentment, and frustration, each time I ask for service. They are the most unfriendly, impolite, and callous government officials and personnel, except only for a few good ones. They don’t reply to letters. They don’t return calls, and never care to give very basic data and information. There were times in my career when I had five employers all at the same time. How is it possible? I worked for San Miguel for 12 years at daytime from Monday to Friday. At nights, I was teaching Law in UST on Mondays and Saturdays, in UE on Tuesdays, in FEU on Wednesdays, in San Sebastian on Thursdays, and in CEU on Fridays. These employers all collected PhilHealth from me.

I was as I still am a poor struggling head of a family who wanted to make both ends meet. And so, as I hear the billions being supposedly squandered by incompetent or dishonest, uncaring, and reckless officials, I feel betrayed and my blood pressure rises to extreme levels. There are just too many senior vice presidents and senior managers doing the mundane jobs that clerks or a lowly analyst can. They have not displayed enough wisdom, much less competence and integrity in protecting the funds that were contributed by poor and lowly people like me. They are paid utterly outrageous salaries, perks, and privileges, given cars and allowed to travel with ostentatious luxury. And yet, they either sleep on their jobs or they have done many irregularities.

I feel angry at the powers that put them where they are. I feel very angry at the Civil Service Commission which purposely adjusted their qualification standards and confirmed their appointments. I feel exceedingly angry at the COA, whose resident auditors and whose head office officials have failed to safeguard the public funds. This appears to be a grand conspiracy of reckless imprudence or a blatant treachery against the hapless and helpless PhilHealth members. Money is paid from the sweat, blood, and tears of the Filipino working class and their employers, who are often harassed, pressured, and hoodwinked under pain of harsh penalties for any delay in premium remittances.

If I were the head of this maligned agency, like the chairman, and if I have some strain of decency in my blood, I would forthwith face the people and commit a virtual hara kiri, by resigning immediately, irrevocably, and unconditionally. But that isn’t enough. For, after that, I should face all the prosecutions, convictions and if, possible to revive the death penalty, the execution in the middle of Luneta or Plaza Independecia to be viewed via national TV, by all victims, the millions of poor PhilHealth members. If all of this is done, then I can forgive them post-mortem.