In the Senate slates of the two major political parties, it is easier to count those who do not bear the surnames of prominent relatives in politics or entertainment, or who are seeking elective office for the first time. There’s only one: Risa Hontiveros, although she once served as a party-list representative. But it was the party-list group that was chosen, not its nominee.
It’s hard to tell which is more depressing: the veteran politicians who think they are locked in a Pinoy Catholic (divorce-free) marriage with their elective posts – till death do they part – or the newest entrants.
Yesterday, accused vehicle smuggler Lynard Allan Bigcas filed his candidacy for governor of Bukidnon. He is promising to improve basic services in the province, including education and health. His party? The ruling Liberal Party denied he was a member.
Jinkee Pacquiao, tired of counting her husband’s billions in Forbes Park, is running for vice governor in Sarangani. Apart from being the wife of boxing superstar Manny Pacquiao, currently a congressman representing the province, and being a poster girl for Vicki Belo, what other claim to public office does Mrs. Pacquiao have? Oh well, she is supposed to be the one with financial savvy in the family, and she once admitted taking the pill. Maybe she should be the one in Congress.
As for the two major coalitions, it seems only their party names separate them. Yesterday, both the Liberals and their allied parties as well as the United Nationalist Alliance (UNA) promised to conduct clean campaigns, based on platforms rather than personalities. Really.
In the run-up to the filing of candidacies, politicians were flitting so frenziedly from one party to another it was hard to keep track. The fact that certain notorious political butterflies are classified as common candidates shows you just how little difference there are among the parties.
The political party system here is a farce. After every presidential election, the winner’s party, no matter how small, becomes the majority overnight, with everyone from the previous ruling party jumping ship. In every election since the collapse of the Marcos dictatorship, no ruling party has been so monolithic it avoided this fate.
One slight difference between the LP and UNA : there may be more known opponents of the Reproductive Health bill in UNA than in the LP coalition. This may earn brownie points for them with the Catholic Church, but not with women.
A priest is seeking elective office again. With the Church running out of priests, and the country suffering from a glut of politicians, why do priests want a career change? The Catholic faithful doesn’t need one more politician.
When even priests think shifting to politics is a good career move, you can understand why politicians want to stay in office forever.
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Term limits have been turned into a farce. Once a politician’s limit is up, he or she fields a relative to warm the seat, while the politician moves to another elective position. It’s also an ideal on-the-job training for the next generation in the political dynasty.
Look at that long list of candidates whose only claim to public office is bearing the surname of a government official. Their dynasties are certain to endure beyond my lifetime.
You’re almost grateful for the smattering of faded movie stars who are entering politics for the first time, threatening entrenched politicians.
That provision in our precious Constitution on banning political dynasties is a joke. It will never hurdle even a congressional committee. It’s like hoping for the passage of an epal bill in this election year; you must be from another planet.
Commission on Elections Chairman Sixto Brillantes admitted that the poll body is helpless in stopping the epal politicians, who seem immune to any shame campaign. Maybe the campaign should be stepped up in cyberspace.
Brillantes offered this advice: look at the epal faces on streamers, and remember not to vote for them on election day. It’s a good advice, except all contenders are doing it, out-epal-ing each other. You wish you could summon the 10 plagues of Egypt to eradicate all of them.
You wonder what makes politics such an attractive calling that people want to bequeath their positions to their children, and their children’s children, and even to their mistresses and their mistresses’ children.
Salaries for lawmakers, governors, mayors and their deputies are only a fraction of those for comparable responsibilities in the private sector. Yet candidates are ready to cheat, steal and commit murder, literally, to ensure election victory.
What’s in it for them? The honest answer to that question should put many elective officials behind bars for violating laws against corruption and the Code of Conduct and Ethical Standards for Public Officials and Employees.
The answer to that question is the reason for our patchwork, substandard infrastructure projects, and for the flourishing of smuggling, jueteng and other numbers games.
A local politician who fielded his son to replace him once told me that dynasties won’t endure if the constituents are unhappy. Maybe he’s right; the son lost. But what if there are no choices, if one clan has become so powerful it can permanently eliminate any potential rival? Think of the Ampatuans and their decade-long political stranglehold in the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao. They were finally ousted, because of a brazen massacre, and then by a rival branch of the same clan.
Driving to work last Monday, I ran into a crowd of supporters marching in Intramuros to cheer their party candidates. The atmosphere was like a town fiesta.
And that’s really all an electoral exercise is in this country – fiesta time. Once the festivities end, the same families end up holding power and wealth, with the masses waiting in vain for change and a better life.