The grassroots

Last Saturday night, a former barangay chairman of Cauayan, Isabela was gunned down as he was driving home on his motorcycle.

Estelito Clarin’s widow told police the only reason she could think of for her husband’s murder was that he was seeking to regain his position as village chief in the barangay elections at the end of the month.

In the first nine months of the year, the Philippine National Police has counted 96 village officials murdered and 41 others wounded in 177 incidents nationwide, with a number of the cases believed linked to the barangay elections on Oct. 28.

A 45-day election gun ban is currently in effect. That didn’t stop Clarin’s killers from spraying him with gunfire from an M-16. Civilian ownership of long firearms is supposed to be tightly regulated, but rifles seem to proliferate, with only a few owners bothering to register the guns.

Movie star Robin Padilla provided an interesting sideshow on this issue last week. Padilla railed against his imprisonment for several years for illegal gun possession while public officials who have stolen millions and even billions from the people remain scot-free.

He should have added that politicians and their private armies are among the most brazen violators of gun laws, but no politician has been sent to prison for a gun offense.

Those private armies and the proliferation of loose firearms guarantee deadly violence in every electoral exercise, with the worst rivalries seen in the barangay polls.

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Some foreigners, noting that Roman Catholicism is the dominant religion in this country, are mystified by this violent streak. Beneath some Filipinos’ smiling, friendly and prayerful exterior I guess is a murderer straining to be free, if the price is right. I’ve written that prices for hired guns can go as low as P100,000.

Never mind the threat of eternal damnation for violating one of the 10 Commandments. Obviously there are Filipinos who fall asleep at Catechism class or during sermons at holy mass. Why would someone spend P100,000 (and up to P5 million) to eliminate a candidate for a village position? The term is only three years and the monthly honorarium is P1,000 for the barangay chairman and P600 for a council member, treasurer or secretary.

So why do even former mayors want to run for barangay captain?

Under the Local Government Code of 1991, barangay officials are entitled to Christmas bonus and cash gift, insurance coverage as well as benefits for accident, total or permanent incapacity, disability, death and burial. They get free hospitalization in government facilities, and free tuition in state schools for themselves and two of their legitimate dependent children (“legitimate” is specified in the law) during their incumbency. Based on their number of years in the service, barangay officials can get civil service eligibility.

But they are not entitled to 13th month pay, hazard pay, representation and transportation allowances, productivity incentive bonus, clothing and personnel and economic relief allowances.

Barangays, however, administer public funds, getting 20 percent of the total national internal revenue allotment (IRA), which is computed based on equal sharing (40 percent) and the village population (60 percent). For 2013, the 41,890 barangays were allotted over P59.165 billion (an average of P1.4 million each for the entire year).

Barangays collect a tax of no more than one percent from the gross sales of retailers with fixed business establishments that earned from P30,000 to P50,000 in the previous year.

They collect barangay clearance fees, service fees or charges for the use of barangay facilities or recreation areas with admission charges, and for billboards and other signage and outdoor advertisements. They can collect toll on roads, piers, waterways, bridges, ferries and telecommunications systems funded or constructed by the barangay. They are entitled to revenue from slaughterhouses, markets and public utilities.

The amounts may seem modest, but a job in the barangay can be the principal source of livelihood for a family breadwinner. As in other elective offices, a barangay position also carries with it powers and functions that can be parlayed into gifts and commissions way beyond the total compensation. By law, village officials are allowed to accept “voluntary” donations.

Congressmen and local government executives who engage in jueteng, smuggling, gunrunning and other illegal activities need cooperative barangay officials who not only will look the other way but also protect the operations.

Village chiefs are also the ones who bring in squatters to pad voters’ lists in favor of their political patrons.

Like their bigger brothers in higher office, barangay officials also try to skirt their three-term limit. Last week the Commission on Elections (Comelec) vowed to come down hard on those who insist on seeking a fourth consecutive term.

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If all those factors still aren’t enough reason for people to murder rivals in the barangay polls, here’s another one: village officials serve as the political leaders of major parties and politicians – the ones with immense war chests to get all the hired guns.

When votes are bought in this country, politicians or their parties know enough not to leave a paper trail. All transactions are done in cash, and the ones who directly hand out the money more often than not are barangay officials.

So the big guns are often active players in the barangay elections. The Comelec should keep a closer watch on campaign funds in the village polls.

In the pork barrel scam, the Commission on Audit has reported that several senators skimmed millions of pesos from their Priority Development Assistance Fund through local government units.

Police have already noted that violence is usually more intense in barangay races. Violence usually erupts when livelihood sources are endangered.

If we want meaningful reforms in politics, they should start at the grassroots, with the barangays.