ON my recent visit to the Philippines, I found myself sharing a case of beer with the vice-mayor of a small provincial town, along with some of his ward leaders. The insights that they provided on grassroots politics could be of interest to social media pundits who may be of the impression that their postings on Facebook and Twitter will influence the results of the coming presidential elections.
If you recall the “million people” anti-pork barrel gathering at the Luneta many months ago, fueled mainly by a social media activist, you are probably one of those who believe that your daily online commentaries on the political scene are helping “educate” the bobotantes out there in the provinces and your clever insults and memes are helping erode the SWS and Pulse Asia rankings of the candidates you dislike.
Well, okay, mass action was enough to make Noynoy Aquino budge on the PDAP issue, but it fell way short of gathering a million and way short of the impact that social media had on the Arab Spring.
On the other hand, who can argue against the power of Facebook and Twitter, considering the 25 million tweets generated by the AlDub phenomenon of GMA Network’s Eat Bulaga? That has certainly brought home the point that the Internet can have a tremendous impact on average folks.
But does that power extend to politics? Not quite.
According to my drinking buddy, the small town vice-mayor, down at the grassroots the magic word is “mobilization.” That’s a euphemism for vote-buying.
The cost of running for public office, at least in my friend’s hometown, can drive the likes of Grace Poe, with her supposed halo of honesty and integrity, to steal from the public coffers upon being sworn into office (or allow her big business funders to do it). I’m afraid the situation isn’t very much different anywhere else in the Philippines.
There’s one more fallacy that the “electoral reformists” need to swallow. A presidential campaign is a Big Money Game and the King of Kurakot or Potentate of Plunder is not necessarily the one being relentlessly investigated by the Senate and crucified on TV and the dailies.
In a recent story in Philippine Star, Paolo Romero wrote: “Some P45 billion in lump sums under the so-called Bottom-Up Budgeting (BUB) provisions in the budget program for this year and for 2016 will be used to boost the presidential bid of Manuel Roxas II, an opposition lawmaker said yesterday.
“Kabataan party-list Rep. Terry Ridon raised the issue during plenary debates on the proposed budget of the Department of the Interior and Local Government (DILG), which Roxas headed until last month. ‘There is a reason why Roxas has been going around the country in the past months to promote BUB and even inaugurate BUB projects in the past months,’ Ridon said.”
That, according to my drinking buddy, is just one part of “mobilization.” Manny Villar’s fabled war chest in the 2010 campaign (said to be at P3.5 billion) is chicken feed compared to that of Roxas. If you think that spending the people’s money for a presidential campaign isn’t kurakotand plunder, then you must be like the monkey who sees, speaks and hears no evil.
Several decades ago, on a trip to Leyte, I happened to have a casual conversation with someone who had just run for congressman and had lost. He was furious at the way his opponent – who had won – had bribed voters to the tune of P100 per head. I was about to shower him with sympathy but did a double-take when he added that he could only afford to give P50.
Well, these days, P100 won’t win you a congressional seat anymore, said my drinking buddy. He recalled how he had to spend one million pesos when he ran for vice-mayor the last time. And he just barely won. How a vice-mayor of a third class municipality can justify spending a million for a position that officially pays peanuts may be explained by the fact that the potential unofficial earnings are more than peanuts.
I asked him what the going rate was these days in his hometown. According to him, it’s P50 per voter if you’re running for councilor, P100 to P150 if you’re a candidate for mayor or vice-mayor, P500 if you want to become a congressman and as much as a thousand if you are aiming for the presidency.
“A ward leader usually accounts for about a dozen voters,” my friend continued. “When he attends a meeting called by the provincial coordinator of a candidate, he is expected to bring home the ‘mobilization.’ Otherwise, he will lose face as well as his credibility.”
Now, that’s just for buying votes. The cost of maintaining the campaign machinery is another thing altogether. In an article for Bulatlat, Karl G. Ombion and Max Cordero, related how an independent activist group in Bacolod computed the expenditures of a trapo or traditional politician running for congress or for mayor in the province.
“Payroll accounts for the highest expenditure of politicians,” the article stated. “As many as 6,000 ward leaders are maintained by trapos. Ward leaders constitute the backbone of election campaign organizations. They are the campaigners in the puroks or barangays (villages) where they live. They receive a minimum of P2,000 per month for three months prior to the election. This alone costs P12 million per month or P36,000,000 for three months.” The article broke down the “minimum expenses” of a candidate in Bacolod, on top of the budget for ward leaders, and that added up to more than P73 million.
What happens if you don’t have enough funds for “mobilization”?
“Don’t bother to run,“ was the reply. “Or run to lose.”
That last statement reminded me of a certain senator who has insisted on running for vice-president even while his survey ratings have been pitifully low. “He’s sure to lose,” said one commentator. “But he will win.”
What the commentator meant, of course, was that the senator-cum-VP aspirant is expected to make a neat sum from contributions from businessmen and the usual election bettors, namely, gambling lords and assorted racketeers. So, even if he loses, he still wins. Besides, he won’t have to give up his Senate seat.
I asked my drinking buddy if the improved political awareness of the provincial voters, due to the extensive reach of network TV and the Internet, will have any influence on their voting preferences.
“Of course that will influence their votes, TV particularly,” he replied. “But the mobilization will have a greater influence.”
“Does it mean that whoever has billions in his campaign chest is a sure winner?” I pressed.
My drinking buddy hastened to clarify the point. “The big spenders have a major advantage,” he said. “But the voters could also accept the money from one candidate but vote for somebody else.”
“And why would they do that?”
“There’s one thing that works as well as mobilization,” he explained. “And that is the personal touch. When a candidate actually goes out of his way to personally talk to the voters, that could neutralize the influence of money. ”
And then he added: “People also don’t forget being told ‘Bahala kayo sa buhay niyo!’ and ‘Buhay ka pa naman, hindi ba?’”
“But an opposition candidate will still have to provide mobilization,” I clarified.
“Siyempre,” was his reply. “But, at least, it will cost him less.” ([email protected])
