The more seasoned among the aspirants admitted that a prime consideration in getting a slot in a party ticket was the availability of a machinery to get the electors to vote for them and to have such votes counted. While to some, the administration wielded the more pervasive setup, for which reason they chose to cast their lot with it, there were those who thought that the opposition too had its organization down to the precinct level.
I may be rephrasing the statement, but I discern two phases of the work of political machineries. It is obvious that the first is to get the votes. This should cover the campaign period (many had actually jumped the gun) up to the eve of election day. An army of workers is required to hang streamers, post materials, distribute leaflets, arrange sorties, erect or set up stages, handle sound and lights, drive transportation units, conduct caucuses and many more jobs. These people had to be fed and salaried.
The second phase is equated with having the voters cast their ballots and their votes counted. It is an election-day expense. Structurally, those involved as the movers (aka canvassers), coordinators, watchers, escorts, tabulators, paralegals, legal teams and many others of different names. These men, who are supposed to be trained weeks before the day election, are, like those in the first phase, to be fed and salaried.
Still, astride between the eve of election and election day itself, there is an account that is most daunting. The bigger amount to spend is on something that cannot be put on record because it is a legal taboo. In local parlance it is labeled, "pahalipay" or "pahinungod" a crude euphemism for that sum of money given to an elector in exchange for his vote.
Ironically, these expenses distinguish the class of politicians. Political expenditure is the waterloo of the idealists, by which term I mean those who believe that election is the search for those with outstanding academic preparation and genuine intentions. Because they lean on the principle that they are offering their mind and body, they fiercely stand on the wrong assumption that they need not spend one centavo in exchange of a vote.
The pragmatists (one can substitute this word with corrupt) among the politicians, on the other hand, especially those who are economically well off, feast on this aspect of our process. Using elaborate distribution channels to deliver their "pahalipay" or "pahinungod, they march to victory on quantifiable (meaning bought) loyalty.
After going through attendant budgetary requirement required of party organizing, my friend and I concluded that the kind of money that a candidate has to spend to make his campaign effective is humongous. It is unreasonably huge that it stymies the less financially-endowed individuals and even a few of those who are wealthy, who do not see the logic of heavy spending. With a nationalistic tinge, my friend then asked me for one solution. How should we minimize expenses and ironically get better results?
My answer was and remains to be simple. When the time comes, let us amend the constitution to limit the voting process to those who are contributing to the government. Let only those who are paying taxes, whatever form they are and no matter how small, vote. Those who do not contribute to the coffers of the government should not be allowed to determine who are to lead as our officials. In this manner, electoral expense will be minimized, and the usual outcome of contests is not conditioned on who has the bigger budget.