Perhaps because we were all so preoccupied with the pandemic, a year passed with hardly anyone realizing that a new law was set to take effect yesterday, Feb. 2.
The past year was supposed to have served as a transitory period from the approval of the implementing rules and regulations or IRR of Republic Act 11229, the Child Safety in Motor Vehicles Act. Also called the Child Car Seat Law, RA 11229 was passed by Congress and signed by President Duterte in February 2019.
The Department of Transportation (DOTr) approved the IRR in February last year, when the first COVID cases, deaths and local transmission were starting to create panic in our country.
What happened next brought everything to a standstill. The government became completely preoccupied with the public health crisis and crumbling economy (although Congress had enough time and energy to hold sessions and scrap the franchise of ABS-CBN).
So there was little chance for agencies to carry out their assigned task under RA 11229 – to conduct a year-long information campaign nationwide before the new law would take effect on Feb. 2, 2021. These agencies, apart from the DOTr and the Philippine Information Agency, are frontliners in the pandemic response: the Department of Health and Department of Education.
This month when the effectivity of the law was upon us, we were all surprised – and stunned by the absurdity of some of the provisions.
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Fortunately for those tasked to enforce this law, children younger than 15 are still barred from outdoor activities.
People are shaking their heads over a law mandating the use of restraining seats in private vehicles for children up to 12 years old – the age of a “child” under the definition of terms in RA 11229.
The law exempts children who are taller than 59 inches (4’11”) but who aren’t teenagers yet. Those who crafted the law must think the majority of Filipino children are stunted.
At 12 years old I had achieved nearly my full height, although I was still quite scrawny. At that age I had reached puberty and was beginning to be interested in boys. I could dress up to look old enough to be admitted alone to movies rated for adults only (film classifications were simpler then).
Maybe RA 11229 was crafted mostly by men. I’ve noticed that boys continue to grow taller until they’re about 16 years old. This is not the case with girls.
As far as I can tell, my height is average for Filipino women. And I can’t imagine myself being strapped to a portable car seat at age 12. Or 11. Or even 9 – the age when some girls begin menstruating and developing the body build of young women.
Law enforcers must have pointed out another tricky aspect of this new law: in our tropical country, most private cars are tinted to keep out the sun. How can enforcers see if the kids are safely restrained in the back seat?
The remedy proposed by some enforcement officials is to ban heavy car tints. Good luck on that; the greatest resistance will come from lawmakers and other politicians, whose vehicles have the heaviest tints.
Yesterday, the DOTr announced the postponement of the effectivity of the law for three to six months. Congress might be pondering amendments. Obviously this will take time, effort and resources, which could otherwise be used in crafting urgent legislation for pandemic response and economic recovery.
The more likely fate of this law, after a brief period of enforcement with news teams in tow, is that it will be added to the long string of forgotten pieces of legislation, such as the one requiring the wearing of seatbelts.
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In this pandemic, adults can’t seem to make up their minds on what to do with the children. Should the kids return to face-to-face classes? Can they again visit malls and restaurants?
Cooped up at home, the kids must be driving their parents stir-crazy. And there’s no relief in sight in the near future.
The emergence of the more infectious COVID variant is setting back efforts to gradually allow children to resume outdoor activities.
For the millions of households with no nannies for the kids, school provides a respite from parenting. No matter how adorable young children can be, they can also be exhausting and demanding of an adult’s time.
Businessmen, for their part, know that children drive consumption, especially in our country where families like to eat, shop and travel together. The family, in our context, includes not only the kids but also the lolos and lolas plus the dog(s) and cat(s).
As we have seen throughout the quarantines, the deal is all or nothing: if the entire caboodle can’t enter a restaurant or tourist resort, families would rather stay home, going to the malls only for essentials.
So the Department of Trade and Industry has been one of the biggest endorsers of the lifting of mobility restrictions on children aged 10 to 14.
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The car seat restraint rules go against this effort. And now the Duterte administration faces accusations of being tone-deaf to the public’s suffering following the advice given by the Land Transportation Office’s regional director for Metro Manila, Clarence Guinto. In reaction to comments that restraining seats took up car space, he said: “Laki-lakihan mo sasakyan mo.”
Get a bigger car.
Guinto later apologized for the “inappropriate” remark, which he said “was made in jest.”
Still, let’s admit it: we were also caught napping. The law was enacted a year before the pandemic. Perhaps we were all lulled by the noble intent, as embodied in the title of the legislation.
Also, in this case, we presumed regularity in the way Congress did its job. After all, who would argue with a measure meant for child protection?
Of course no one did.
Now we’re learning that legislation, left unchecked, can degenerate into such depths of silliness that it can render laws unenforceable.