Roots of corruption

Give him credit for honesty: San Juan Rep. Joseph Victor “JV” Ejercito, commenting on the ouster of his uncle Emilio Ramon or ER as Laguna governor for campaign overspending, sniffed that all candidates overspend and their clan was just being singled out by the Aquino administration.

Even the clan’s political enemies won’t dispute what he said.

There are laws limiting campaign spending. As in most other laws in this country, however, enforcement is a joke. Seeing this, politicians break the rules with impunity.

Violators get caught only if someone – usually a losing rival – has the patience and resources to dig up evidence that the Commission on Elections (Comelec) can’t ignore. This was the case with ER Ejercito, whose rival got hold of documents showing how much the governor spent on TV advertising alone in the campaign last year.

But even then, the Comelec clarified yesterday that the penalty did not carry permanent disqualification from public office. ER can simply run again in 2016. In the meantime he can revive his movie career.

Political rivalries can be useful; we learn a lot when enemies wash their dirty linen in public. Rivalries may also be the best way for the Comelec to enforce rules on campaign spending, limited as the rules are.

But regulating campaign spending cannot be left simply to the Comelec and feuding candidates. ER’s case should make policymakers seriously consider campaign finance reforms.

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If the best things in life are free, then politics has to be among the worst. From entering it to staying in the game, politics is a costly business.

Financing expensive campaigns is one of the biggest causes of corruption and bad governance in our country.

If a candidate for governor can spend P23.5 million – way above the P4.5 million authorized for a province with just 1.5 million registered voters – think of how much candidates for higher office need. Coming from a prominent show biz clan, ER didn’t even need to invest a lot on name recall.

As I have written, several candidates for the Senate last year told me that they each spent about P150 million for their campaign.

A contender for president in 1998 estimated that for the 2010 race, a candidate needed a war chest of about P2 billion. It was no exaggeration; that was the amount estimated to have been spent by at least one of the candidates.

Where do they get that kind of money? Most Filipinos will never see P1 million in cash in their lifetime. The caps on campaign spending are intended to give even poor candidates a chance against the wealthy ones, although leveling the playing field in anything in this country is largely a romantic notion.

Presidential campaigns anywhere do not come cheap. Barack Obama reportedly spent $730 million in his first campaign for the presidency and his rival John McCain $333 million – a record high in the United States. The differences lie in the level of transparency in fund-raising and expenditures, and the way limits on contributions are enforced.

In the US, individual voters contribute money to their candidate and political party, with even the smallest amounts ($200 or lower) recorded for submission to campaign finance regulators.

It’s the other way around in our country, where there are voters who expect to receive money from candidates.

In the US, candidates who meet eligibility requirements can seek government subsidy for their campaign. In our country, taxpayers will howl at the idea of subsidizing the campaign of any politician.

For larger private contributions, fundraisers are openly held in the US, where the donors – with all their advocacies, businesses and vested interests – are identified.

In our country, large campaign donors typically prefer to remain anonymous, for fear of reprisal in case their candidate loses. In the age of Kim Henares, big campaign donors also fear questioning by the revenue police.

Then there are the donors who like to have all their bases covered, contributing to rival candidates (although the biggest amounts are given to the perceived frontrunner). Among wealthy clans, it’s also common for siblings or different branches of the family to support rival candidates. It’s the safest way to protect family businesses, which are usually linked, in an incestuous embrace, with political power.

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A voter who donates P200 to his candidate’s campaign expects good governance in return. This is what one of the senatorial candidates told me last year – that he did not have to recoup the P150 million he spent because his campaign funds were mainly donated by supporters whose only hoped-for quid pro quo was his exemplary performance in office.

A donor in the US who gives $200,000, or helps raise $20 million, will expect something more. As long as the return on investment is legitimate – an appointment for a qualified individual, for example – there won’t be much of a fuss.

In our country, someone who donates P20 million to the war chest of a presidential candidate expects a handsome return on investment. The projected ROI is committed even before the donation is handed over. The ROI can take the form of a sweetheart deal or an undeserved appointment.

Any serious fight against corruption must include campaign finance reforms. Unfortunately for us, not even the tuwid na daan has the political will for this.