Just like dominoes

Stretching my hand out to the konduktor, I say, “Plite ‘nya (Here’s my fare).” She glances at the coins I gave her and flashes me that indignant look. “Nganong siyete ra man ni, ‘dong? (Why is your fare only P7 pesos?),” she howls at me as if I just peeped at her while she took a bath. “Estudyante man ko (I’m a student),” I reply defensively. Regular passengers are supposed to pay P7.50 but since I am student, I am entitled to pay less. The argument could have ended at that point but she chose to rant and I chose to look away on purpose to ignore her blabber.

Back in 2003, when I was still in third grade, the minimum jeepney fare in Cebu City was around P4 to P5. Nine years have passed and the plite has increased by P3. Three pesos might be a fiddling amount for some but for most people, P3 is a lot.

Republic Act No. 8479, the Downstream Oil Industry Deregulation Act of 1998 or simply put, the Oil Deregulation Act, aims to “ensure a truly competitive market under a regime of fair prices, adequate and continuous supply of environmentally-clean and high quality petroleum products.” In view of the law’s aim, the government is proscribed from meddling with the marketing aspect of the oil industry, be it pricing, import and export operations or the facilities and establishment of retailers and refineries. Also, the law levied a 3-percent tariff on oil and set the Department of Energy (DOE) and the Department of Trade and Industry (DTI) as watchdogs for any infringement on fair trade practices, safety requirements, or environmental laws.

Despite its seemingly benevolent intentions, the law has not achieved its objectives. Instead, the unregulated oil pricing has caused the value of petroleum products to skyrocket by more than 500 percent within the first 10 years after the law’s passage.

Over the years, we have witnessed that when oil prices rise, jeepney fares rise as well. Unfortunately, the effects of the law of 1998 are not only limited to the transportation sector. The cost of all other commodities is affected as well. The domino effect dictates that when one tile falls, the others follow suit.

In my head, I curse the lady konduktor for sounding off about how my fare lacked a few centavos. Nevertheless, my conscience dictated that I reconsider. With ever increasing oil prices, this lady probably needs all the centavos she can get.

The konduktor who howled at me might be the wife of the driver of the jeepney I was riding. By the end of the day, they might earn P400 to P500 and yet this amount wouldn’t be enough to feed seven to eight children in the family because prices of food and other necessities are too high. This is one of the sad consequences of the oil deregulation law. Indirect? Yes. Impossible? Not quite. Like I said, it’s the Domino Effect.

They say oil deregulation has advantages. Until I see that in the context of people who are still starving, I won’t believe they exist.

As much as I want to repeal the law myself (which I cannot do) or incessantly ask the government to do something about it, I cannot do much for I am but a small voice. What am I compared to large multibillion-peso oil companies in the Philippines, earnestly seeking to carry out their own financial agenda? What am I compared to the rich who benefit from this law and in return support it? I am but a small voice.

I do hope though that this small voice, one among many others who share the same sentiment, will permeate the walls that deter genuine development and some day, cause it to crumble like a row of toppled dominoes.