i Report Issue No. 3 2005 - Philippine Center for Investigative ...

(top and bottom) YOUTH FOR MARCOS.
In the 1970s, presidential daughter Imee
Marcos led the Kabataang Barangay, the
precursor of today’s Sangguniang Kabataan.
just 15, the minimum age
requirement for an SK aspirant.
Carlo had wanted to make
a difference, noting that his
predecessor spent six years in
the SK without any project to
show afterward. Carlo planned
to put up a library for the
youth and have a computer in
the SK office. But the barangay
captain said no. “Ayoko (I just
don’t want to), ” was the kapi-
tan’s
explanation.
The kapitan, however, had
more to say after Carlo posted
a “Walang Ku-Corrupt” advocacy
sticker used during the Edsa
2 revolution on the SK office’s
door. That night, the kapitan
called an emergency meeting
with the whole council and
several people present. Carlo
was being accused of, of all
things, vandalism. “Pinapar-
inggan mo ba kami
(Are you
implying something)?” the enraged
barangay chief asked. After
that incident, all of Carlo’s
proposals were rejected. Had it
not been for the barangay accountant
who helped him push
for the release of his funds,
he would not have even been
able to implement his projects.
“The SK needs protection,”
says the Institute for Popular
Democracy’s Francis Isaac,
who was elected SK councilor
in Pasay in 1992. “The first protection
it needs is protection
from the barangay chair.”
The barangay, in fact, is just
the first and lowest level of the
power hierarchy. SK officials
have to deal with mayors,
governors, and congressmen as
well. But with the SK’s influence
over a large number of wouldbe
voters, politicians have keen
interest in SK affairs. There are
even those who go to the extent
of having key people—preferably
a close relative— become
part of the SK.
Crucial SK posts invite
rather heavy-handed ways.
Posadas, for instance, recalls
how no one dared to nominate
another candidate as SK
federation president apart from
the mayor’s daughter. Posadas
was himself eyeing the seat,
but everyone fell silent when
the nomination was closed
immediately after the name of
the mayor’s hija
was entered.
In Zambales, meanwhile,
SK chairs each received
P3,000, a 3310 Nokia phone,
and an SK jacket from the
mayor’s nephew before one
particular SK poll. “He was just
15 years old,” says one of the
recipients. “Three days before
the election he and his father
came to our homes and offered
us the ‘gifts.’ Of course,
most accepted the offer since
they couldn’t afford a phone. I
only got the jacket since it had
my name on it. Bigay daw ni
mayor
(They said the mayor
gave it). It was at that point
that I lost all hope.”
Some say the “bargaining”
is even worse during the election
of the provincial SK federation
head in some areas. Gari
Lazaro, president of the Center
for Youth Advocacy and Networking,
has worked with the
youth sector long enough to
know that even the “kingmakers”
who put the youngsters in
power have vested interests.
“Whatever their motives,” he
says, “it will surely affect the
performance (of the SK).”
“Our culture is subversive,”
he adds. “The no.1 rule is
obedience. And if you can’t
assert yourself, you won’t win
in the battle.”
In a barangay in Manila, a
20-year-old SK chair can barely
concentrate on her work. “I
think I won only because my
aunt (the barangay captain)
wanted me there,” she says.
“She makes me sign papers I
never get to read. Employees
at the city hall kept telling me,
‘Makukulong ka na lang ‘di mo
pa alam
(You’re headed for jail
and you don’t even know it).’”
These days the city government’s
Youth Bureau is waiting
for her to file a complaint
against her aunt, who apparently
made it appear on paper
that several donated medals
and trophies had been purchased.
This is just the latest
among the accusations hurled
her aunt’s way. The SK chair
fears that she, too, might soon
be implicated in one of her
aunt’s alleged shenanigans.
Iloilo Rep. Janette Loreto-
Garin, who used to be Leyte’s
SK federation head, says it’s
not easy for an SK official to
have relatives in government.
Herself part of a political clan,
Loreto-Garin says, “You have
to consider your relatives so
that they won’t be offended.”
But Richard Alvin Nalupta,
commissioner-at-large of the
National Youth Commission
(NYC), says this isn’t necessarily
true. Another scion of a
political family, Nalupta was
provincial SK head in Ilocos
Norte while his father was
the vice governor. He says his
father never attempted to influence
his stand on issues. “He
didn’t impose,” says Nalupta.
“In fact, we even debated (during
sessions).”
Former Pasay SK member
Isaac, however, wants a clean
break from the old order, which
includes political dynasties. “SK
is an arena of struggle between
the kind of trapo politics
that we have and the kind of
politics we want to emerge,”
he stresses. The clamor for new
politics, he says, comes with
the need for autonomy. “It has
no dynamism of its own,” says
Isaac. “The older people have
no real appreciation of the SK
as an institution for good governance
and democratization.
To them, it’s all about politics.”
THE CALL
for reforms in the
sector came as early as 1996,
when there was news that the
first batch of SK was not performing
and had been taken
over by trapolitos
or young
traditional politicians.
“Walang pingakaiba ‘yan
sa gusto mong maging artista
at pipila ka sa
Starstruck (They
were chosen in the same way
votes are garnered by contestants
in Starstruck),” Lazaro
POLITICAL INITIATION.
Mikee Cojuangco,
former movie star and
member of a political
clan, was introduced
to politics through the
Sangguniang Kabataan.
38 PHILIPPINE CENTER FOR INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISM I REPORT