As we near World News Day I am reminded of the adage “democracy is local” (Thomas Jefferson all the way back then); the work of journalists in their communities is nothing short of an expression of agency, citizenship and empowerment that are the building blocks of democracy. 

Everyone’s eyes focus on elections, big events and major changes when considering the viability of actions to bring about democracy.

But from where I stand it is the daily hard work of citizenship on the small scale that can eventually build sustainable understanding and commitment to effective, inclusive democracy. And the work of those committed journalists who go to work everyday to report on and for their communities are central to that process.

This is not an easy job. Building, managing and sustaining local, public service journalism capable of playing critical roles in supporting their communities is more often than not a thankless task. Across the world money has dried up as the business of journalism has been threatened by big tech, jobs have been shed, quality has been compromised, resources are fragmented and the value of journalism is constantly contested. 

Closing information spaces is an increasingly high risk. Just look at the past 11 months in Gaza where Israel has killed an unprecedented number of journalists with impunity. The latest count by CPJ documents at least 116 journalists killed in this war.  And it is not just lives we are losing; credibility too.

“Beware if you continue to lie you will grow up to be a CNN journalist” quipped a popular meme in Arabic at the advent of the carnage against Palestinians in Gaza. And there were variations: a BBC journalist, etc. The trust in Western media’s impartiality and standards has been sorely tested and not just in the Arabic-speaking world bringing back the ghosts of post 9/11 coverage, the Iraq War and even coverage of Trump and US elections. 

And it seems that  the very people we aim to serve are also increasingly jaded by mis-information/dis-information campaigns and audience mis-trust and avoidance are daily realities.

Disturbing trends

We know, from our work in the heart of communities and from the disturbing trends that have paralleled the demise of local journalism, that independent journalism is critical in exploring and upholding truth. “It is such a hard job,” confides a journalist as he mopped the sweat off of his brow in a field where he was reporting on farmers’ struggles in Egypt. And yet he stood his ground and because he did his community could find reliable information and make informed decisions about their daily lives. He is not an internationally recognized figure, people rarely know the rank and file. But his work embodies the heart and soul of what journalism is—an act of service.

We have lived firsthand the dangers to democracy posed by losing independent—particularly local—media. We are now confident in the knowledge that the survival of a diverse, proficient media sector is an essential cornerstone in that pursuit of humanity and freedom.

We can have no more doubts with regards to the threat monopolies of big tech companies pose to our profession and can think clearly about the value journalism brings to society and where we need to re-trench and set up boundaries. 

The examples of those grasping this moment are out there: journalist owned media outlets for some, print houses and products for others, community engagement for many—and that is just some of what is being done. 

The rest is up to you: our audiences and communities. Tell us what you need. Support news organizations that are prioritizing good journalism and public service. Make good and informed choices with regards to what media you consume. Because only together can we build a thriving, responsive journalism ecosystem in support of justice and truth.

Fatemah Farag is the founder and director of Welad ElBalad Media Egypt. This article was produced as part of the World News Day campaign to highlight the importance of journalism.

Read more: EJN wins SOPA Award for greenwashing collaborative reporting

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In the background rang a few protest songs, and some participants would sing along to them with fists in the air as each candle slowly glowed orange against the shiny uneven pavement, around many careful ankles.

Continuing the true story

The participants consisted of those who lived through the martial law era and those who did not. The latter, students particularly,  made up a bulk of the attendees.

Historian and professor Xiao Chua of the August Twenty One Movement took note of the crowd’s volume and found it encouraging that “we do not forget those who fought during the martial law period.”

In his speech delivered almost entirely in Filipino, Chua described teachers as “frontliners in the telling of a just, truthful, and meaningful history.”

He recalled the uprising on Feb. 22-25, 1986, that toppled the Marcos dictatorship: “We have to remember that People Power, despite being a very beautiful four days of peaceful revolution, would not be possible if it wasn’t for the 40 years of hardship, sacrifice, and blood that our heroes had given. I hope we can take care of this freedom [that we have] … While we can remember, no matter the current politics and the changing of seasons, we should not stop remembering, like we are doing now.”

‘Best metaphor for democracy’

Kiko Aquino Dee, deputy executive director of the Ninoy and Cory Aquino Foundation and a grandson of the late Aquino couple, also said as much in his own speech that followed Chua’s. “However someone will try to dismantle and remove our democracy, and despite the fact that there will always be someone to attempt it, we need to keep being here to fight for and enrich our democracy so that all our citizens will continue to benefit from it,” he said.

It took some time to light all the candles, in part because some of the wicks had gotten wet from the earlier rain, and had to be lit again and again until they stayed aflame. In his speech, Aquino Dee likened it to the act of fighting for democracy: “What I realized about democracy, with what we did earlier when it was raining and the candles got wet, and we would light them but they would suddenly get put out, and we’d keep lighting them again, and they kept getting extinguished again—maybe that’s the best metaphor for democracy.”

“Democracy is not something that just lives without effort,” he continued in a mix of English and Filipino. “It is something that we fight for and commit to. It is held together by paper clips and chewing gum, but because democracy is the only way of life that aligns with our dignity as Filipinos and as human beings, we have to keep fighting for it.”

The candles flickered and faltered and needed repeated lighting. Nonetheless, they stayed lit for the rest of the night, even past the end of the program which closed with remarks from the former chief justice Maria Lourdes Sereno.

A fight through generations

“First and foremost, it is very true that there is a need to fight against historical revisionism,” Sereno said. “There are cases in the Supreme Court and the lower courts that document what happened to the rights of our citizens.”

Sereno raised the need to remind government officials that, according to the provision on  accountabilities in Article 11 of the Constitution, “public office is a public trust, and every public official shall be accountable to the people at all times; must serve them with utmost diligence, efficiency, and honesty, and must lead modest lives.”

“We have to ask during the [2025] elections, ‘Are you leading modest lives? Are you accountable to the people at all times? Do you understand what we were saying in the preamble that we will establish a just and humane society?’” Sereno urged the assembly. “This gathering that we have done in front of the monument of heroes that gave up their lives is a pledge of the youth and the generation that can still fight that we will help to hold officials in power to account. Why? Because we are building a nation.”

She went on to address the youth in the crowd—many of them students visibly soaked from the earlier rain but still participative during the entire event—entreating them to be mindful of their role in “ushering the healing of the older generations.”

“I do not ask that you become caregivers. Not at all,” the former chief justice said. “What I mean is, those who fought during the martial law era carry pain, and their fight for justice would be cut once they depart from this life.”

But with the young people’s presence at the commemoration, Sereno said, “it is encouraging to see that there is hope for the older generation—that what they fought for will not be forgotten, but instead will be intensified in a very creative and intelligent way that makes accountability meaningful.”

Read more: Digital martial law library launched, ‘to ensure that all Filipinos will remember’

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We caught the 2:30 p.m. show (the other was at 7 p.m.) on March 10, arriving at the theater more than an hour before showtime to buy walk-in tickets. By 2 p.m. the lobby was teeming with theater-goers. Ilagan chit-chatted with some friends before everyone, including activists Satur and Bobbie Ocampo, were all ushered inside.

An hour into the play, the thick silence becomes prickly when four ghosts take center stage. They were the victims of human rights violations in the Philippines—during the Spanish and US colonial eras, Ferdinand Marcos Sr.’s dictatorship, and the regimes of Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo and Rodrigo Duterte. They had entered the land of the living through a portal opened by two Red-tagged university professors, a former activist, and an artist-photographer playing the Spirit of the Glass to keep their minds off of the state’s manhunt.

The spirits narrate their sufferings through one of the professors whose third eye remains open.

“Spirit of the Glass” combines art and reality in championing human rights, which have become more difficult to uphold in the face of a strong effort at historical revisionism backed by seemingly unlimited resources. The fight for human rights continues to require a strong pushback, and the play provides just that.

Upended lives

Vivian (Elora Españo) and Balé (Carlos Dala) are Red-tagged by the state for their supposed subversive actions, and their lives are upended. They go into hiding in the province with security officer Badong (Edward Allen Solon) and Rory (Barbara Miguel) in Rory’s house. Rory inherited the house from her grandparents Fernando and Herminia who, in the 1950s, were Huks, or members of the Hukbong Mapagpalaya ng Bayan. Rory insists that she’s an individualist, not an activist.

That Vivian and Balé are Red-tagged for their rights advocacy turns logic on its head, giving credence to the absurdity of the situation: Rights advocates exercising their rights are hunted down for fighting for what’s right. The manhunt raises the question of why advocating for human rights is considered evil in a democratic country. Shouldn’t citizens in a functioning democracy be free to speak out without fear of persecution?

It is this egregious absence of logic that Ilagan weaves into the play as an envisioned hope, and endgame, through dialogues particularly between the four—Vivian, Balé, Badong, and Rory—and the barangay (village) captain (Edru Abraham) who dropped in at the house unexpectedly.

The captain’s visit is brief but potent enough to emphasize the state’s strong capability for terror. His attendance at a seminar of the NTF-Elcac (or the National Task Force to End Local Communist Armed Conflict) on terrorism and activism accentuates his power even at “just” the village level. It has a chilling effect on the four, having—irony of all ironies—come face to face with the arm of the “law” in their sanctuary shortly after their arrival.

But llagan makes the impossible possible. Without resorting to threats of violence, the captain debates with the four on human rights and activism. Pushing the surreal turn of events, he promises, at the end of their discussion, that no harm will come to them and momentarily alleviates the bleakness of Vivian and Balé’s problem.

Fictional as Vivian and Balé are, their situation is firmly grounded on the ominous issuance by the Komisyon sa Wikang Filipino (KWF) of Memorandum No. 2022-0663 on Aug. 9, 2022, banning five books. Lorraine Badoy, Rodrigo Duterte’s former communications undersecretary, had branded the works of Malou Jacob, Rommel B. Rodriguez, Dexter B. Cayanes, Don Pagusara, and Reuel M. Aguila as subversive, and Red-tagged the authors in the talk show “Laban Kasama ang Bayan” broadcast over Sonshine Media Network International, according to globalvoices.org.

In a subsequent report by Inquirer.net, the memorandum was rescinded a month later, when some KWF commissioners withdrew their signatures following a massive public outcry.

Disturbed spirits

Using spirits as characters is not a whimsical creative take by Ilagan. Significantly, the four spirits plus Fernando (Nanding Josef) and Herminia (Edna May Landicho) underscore the dire situation that even the dead are turning in their graves or, as llagan writes in Tagalog in the program notes, “protesting against Red-tagging and all human rights violations.”

From the beyond, Natalya, Rory’s yaya and “big sister,” narrates with Vivian’s help her savage end in the hands of her abductors. The brutality of Natalya’s story sounds fantastical, but the lines of reality and fiction blur precisely because a cloud of terror hangs overhead.

Fernando and Herminia have long been gone but they’re attuned to the goings-on in the modern world, including an acceptance of their granddaughter’s sexual preference in a partner. Even in the afterlife they’re supportive, making their home a halfway house for dead and living activists. Their legacy of fighting against injustice, which ended with Natalya’s death, is revived in Rory, who, after learning what has happened to Natalya, embraces activism wholeheartedly.

llagan does not gloss over the savagery, and why should he? The truth in its brutal vividness must be told to resist the present-day denialism that’s deodorizing the workings of evil.

The playwright himself has faced the evil lurking in the shadows all his life. Writing in Tagalog in the program notes, he tells of the day of interrogation and torture that he endured in Baguio City in 1994, and his being told afterwards by the officer who arrested him that he better not show his face again. And of that phone call on Jan. 2, 2023, in Quezon City, in which he was told: “We know what you’re doing. I still have some respect for you, but once the order comes from the top, even if you beg, there’s nothing you can do.”

Regular folks

Ilagan deconstructs the stereotypical image of activists as angry and coldhearted. He depicts Vivian, Balé, Badong, and Rory as level-headed yet funny, with regular-people worries such as love, everyday decisions, etc. (If Fernando and Herminia were alive, they would have been the model for couples, with their sweetness and attentiveness towards each other.)

Vivian and Balé may be professors, but they’re as awkward and inept as teenagers when it comes to romance. Neither wants to be the first to admit feelings for the other although their actions betray their words. Vivian is more extroverted than the slightly uptight, naive Balé, and has an annoying habit of saying “You’re mean” to counter or end arguments.

Badong is the foil to Bale’s seriousness. His jovial, happy-go-lucky manner provides the levity to the heaviness of the play, such as when he’d tease Vivian and Balé about their “relationship,” and his hilarious way of summoning the spirits when they start playing Spirit of the Glass.

Rory is Badong’s female version but is more bohemian in lifestyle. Nonetheless, she and Badong are two peas in a pod with vivacity and penchant for drinking. Compared to Vivian, who’s more structured in her ways. Rory is a free spirit oozing with confidence.

Collectively, the four can be any group of college friends taking a break from their studies, except that they have loftier ideals than their contemporaries.

Note of hope

Ilagan ends “Spirit of the Glass” on a note of hope, indicating order, albeit ephemeral, in the society. Vivian and Balé can return to their old lives, and before leaving for Manila, Balé finally admits his feelings for Vivian. Rory gathers her paintings and declares she’ll hold an exhibit honoring the slain activists. It is suggested that Badong returns to his ad-agency job.

The play presents to revisionists and doubters the glaring truths of a broken democracy where, in Ilagan’s words, “tyranny has resurrected, proclaiming authority over the land [and] history is being turned upside down.”

It reminds Filipinos of the necessity of vigilance, of speaking out, of fighting for their rights even if the struggle becomes perilous, and of realizing that no one is safe until past and ongoing crimes against the people are redressed.

“Spirit of the Glass” strongly drives home the point that in a functioning democracy, dialogue is essential: Asking, commenting, critiquing, and rebutting are fundamental tools of communication, not acts of terrorism.

The play needs another, longer, run.

Read more: Case of filmmaker, friends shows need for public awareness of warrantless arrest

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The historic 1986 Edsa People Power Revolt was commemorated yesterday, Feb. 25, by the BuhayAngEdsa Campaign Network with three distinct events celebrating democracy and solidarity. 

‘Edsa Freedom Ride’

In the early morning, over 100 cyclists, skaters, and joggers converged on Ayala Avenue in Makati City for an “Edsa Freedom Ride.” The event was organized by Akbayan Party together with the Siklista Pilipino, Pilipinas Riders, Makati Villages Council, Cycling Buddies, Pio4Leni, Skaters for Leni, Kalye Serye Mandaluyong, Akbayan Youth, Youth Resist, The Youth Alliance Against Charter Change (Tayo Against Cha-Cha), and Student Council Alliance of the Philippines.

Former senator Rene Saguisag and Francis Aquino Dee, deputy executive director of the Ninoy and Cory Aquino Foundation (NCAF) and grandson of the democracy icons in whose honor the foundation is named, were among those who saw off the cyclists, skaters and joggers. 

‘The Edsa Story’

Later in the morning in San Juan City, “The Edsa Story: A People’s Victory, A Nation’s Glory,” a multimedia storytelling event about the Filipino people’s fight for freedom and democracy, was held at Club Filipino’s Kalayaan Hall.

It was in that venue where opposition leader Cory Aquino took her oath as president after defeating the strongman Ferdinand Marcos in the 1986 “snap” presidential election. A video of her oathtaking was the high point of the show. 

Directed by Floy Quintos, “The Edsa Story” featured artists Edru Abraham and Kontra Gapi, Bayang Barrios, Jaime Fabregas, Arman Ferrer, Jep Go, Ateneo Entablado, Xiao Chua, Macoy Dubs, and Mighty Magulang.

The special guests included framers of the 1987 Constitution, veterans of the Edsa revolt, and members of the respective Cabinets of the late Presidents Cory Aquino and Noynoy Aquino. 

Also present were former senator Leila de Lima and human rights lawyer Chel Diokno. 

Videos of the revolt as well as man-on-the-street interviews on how Filipinos remember Edsa, courtesy of Probe Archives, provided additional context to the show.

‘#EdsaKahitSaan Concert’

The #EDSAKahitSaan Concert kicked off at 7 p.m. at the People Power Monument along White Plains Avenue., taking the audience back to the historic four days of the bloodless revolt. The highlight was at 9:05 p.m., the exact time Marcos and his family fled Malacañang, marking the end of the dictatorship and the restoration of democracy in the country.

The concert was directed by Leo Rialp and produced by the NCAF, Buhay ang Edsa Campaign Network, and Barangay Artists 4 Edsa.

The performers were Anthony Rosaldo, Bayang Barrios, Bituin Escalante, Bo Cerrudo, Bodjie Pascua, Bree, Bullet Dumas, Buskers from the Busking Community PH, Elijah Canlas, Elmo and Arkin Magalona, Everywoman, Jaime Fabregas, Joel Saracho, Kathleen Quinto, Leah Navarro, Leo Martinez, Lyndon Malapad, Martin Riggs, Mass Appeal, Mitch Valdes, Nica del Rosario, SOS, Teatro Tao sa Tao, and The Company. 

“These activities are not just about commemorating the past,” said Francis Aquino Dee. “They are about rekindling the spirit of unity and democracy that defined the People Power Revolution. It is a testament to the enduring legacy of Edsa amid efforts by those who want to undermine it by self-serving attempts to revise our Constitution.”

Read more: ‘Relive Edsa, Junk Cha-cha’ is the rallying cry

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The barangay is the smallest political unit in the Philippines. But for Filipinos, the barangay represents more than just a government identity. It is also the smallest territorial unit that embodies a community. 

These two “faces” of the barangay—being both a local government and a community—give it a distinct significance in Philippine democracy, said Michael Henry Yusingco, a lawyer and a fellow at the Ateneo School of Government. 

“Because of this characteristic, the barangay is supposed to be a community parliament… It is a venue or forum for regular people to engage in governance,” he told the Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism (PCIJ) in an interview.

The Sangguniang Barangay (barangay council) is headed by a punong barangay (barangay captain). Its members are seven kagawad (councilors) and the chair of the Sangguniang Kabataan (youth council).

By law, village elections are held every three years. During President Rodrigo Duterte’s administration, these were postponed a number of times, somewhat rendering the officials irrelevant. 

The elections originally set for May 2016 were suspended twice before these finally pushed through in May 2018. That was the last time Filipinos cast their vote for barangay officials. These were to be held next in May 2020, but Duterte signed a law putting these off for December 2022.

His successor, President Ferdinand Marcos Jr., also signed a law postponing these from December 2022 to October 2023. The Supreme Court ruled this move as unconstitutional, but allowed the vote to proceed this year.

Barangay officials elected in 2018 have been serving their term of office for over five years, or nearly as long as the President’s term.

The Local Government Code defines the role of barangays as the primary implementing unit of government programs, as well as a forum where people’s collective views are heard and disputes are sorted out.    

Yusingco, a legislative and policy consultant based in Australia, said village officials should facilitate discussions with their constituents, and relay the latter’s sentiments to the higher-ups.    

The majority of the 42,027 barangays, however, “do not function that way’’ because barangay officials “have been used as part of the machinery of political dynasties,” he observed. “Instead of representing the community in the higher levels of government, they represent higher-ups in the community. The reverse is happening.”    

Only at the barangay level are officials and residents interacting directly, face-to-face, and regularly.

This dynamic, according to Yusingco, has driven national agencies to use barangay officials as “foot soldiers,” such as for the imposition of lockdowns and distribution of ayuda (aid) at the height of the Covid-19 pandemic. 

While these were done “out of necessity,” Yusingco said, using the barangay as an “agent of government… goes against its local autonomy.”

But “autonomy does not equate to independence,” said Maria Ela Atienza, a political science professor at the University of the Philippines.  

“Barangays, like other local governments, are supposed to implement policies from the national government because we still have a unitary system,” Atienza told PCIJ. 

The Local Government Code devolved national government responsibilities such as services to local government units, including barangays. 

“The idea here is that aside from implementing national programs, planning should actually emanate from the grassroots, from bottom up,” Atienza said. 

PCIJ spoke with academics and advocates who identified the barangay’s biggest responsibilities. It must be stressed, however, that every barangay has unique contexts and needs. PCIJ hopes this list can serve as a guide for voters ahead of the barangay elections.

1. Protecting vulnerable sectors

Championing the interests of vulnerable sectors should top the list of barangays’ responsibilities. This includes enforcing ordinances to protect women and children from violence, Atienza said.  

For her part, Nymia Pimentel Simbulan, chair of the Philippine Alliance of Human Rights Advocates (Pahra), pointed out that cases of domestic abuse can be detected and prevented at the barangay where people know each other on a personal level. 

“Minsan ‘yung barangay captain, alam naman niya na nabubugbog ‘yung kanyang kapitbahay (Sometimes a barangay captain knows that his/her neighbor is being beaten up) … yet they do nothing about it,” Simbulan told PCIJ. “The common justification is that it is a family concern, something private to the couple.”

Child abuse and child labor can be monitored and curtailed within the community, Simbulan said.  

“If there is a program at the barangay that monitors how [computer] shops are managed, how these shops are utilized by the youth, that could be one way of addressing the issue of online sexual abuse,” she said. 

The Philippines ranks second worldwide in online sexual abuse and exploitation of children, according to the Cybercrime Investigation and Coordinating Center, an attached agency of the Department of Information and Communications Technology. 

Programs benefiting the elderly and persons with disabilities, as well as indigenous peoples (IPs), should also rank high in barangays’ priorities, Simbulan said. 

On top of delivering basic services, barangays must ensure that IPs are represented in decision-making processes, she added. 

In proposed projects that will affect indigenous communities, the barangay is expected to organize consultative assemblies to enable IPs to decide whether to grant free, prior, and informed consent. 

The lack of consultation with IPs and the failure to secure such consent from them have been a source of dispute in government or private-sector-initiated projects in their ancestral domains.  

It goes without saying that adequate services—such as day care centers for the young and feeding programs for malnourished children—should be available in the community, Atienza said.   

“The rights we want to protect should be more visible and have more interventions at the barangay level,” she said.

2. Peace and order

Atienza, former chair of the UP Department of Political Science, also pointed out that peace and order can be easier addressed in the barangay. 

Barangays should craft their development plan based not only on the needs of residents but also on problems that disrupt peace such as petty crimes, she said.  “Who often gets involved in these crimes, and why?” 

In the Bangsamoro Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao, barangays may address issues surrounding armed violence, said Yusingco. He stressed that every barangay has diverse needs and situations.

For Simbulan, the barangay, being “the structure nearest to the people,” is also the first stop for residents seeking counsel, advice or assistance. 

But Duterte’s brutal war on drugs forced many barangay officials to turn against their constituents.  

“[Barangay captains are forced to turn in lists of] known drug personalities, which is a very loose term,” said Joel Ariate Jr., a researcher at the UP Third World Studies Center that runs “Dahas,” which monitors reported drug-related killings in the Philippines. 

 Ariate told PCIJ that the barangay captain and other officials eventually “hold power over life and death.”

He also cited a “watered down effect” created by the focus on barangays to provide solutions to national problems. 

“Parang kasalanan ng barangay na may namatay sa kanila, pero hindi tinitingnan na kumusta naman ‘yung kampanya ng national government,” he said. (Barangays are blamed for the killings, while the national government is not held accountable for the anti-drug campaign.)

Ariate also said that declaring barangays drug-free—which may be considered an accomplishment or political capital for barangays—further blurs the lines of accountability for extrajudicial killings. 

Fr. Flavie Villanueva, SVD, founder of Program Paghilom, said the public should “be discerning of the past” performance of barangay officials when choosing candidates for the upcoming elections. 

“Kung maayos ang barangay, ito ay may maaari nang turing ng isang bahay kung saan nakakaramdam ang tao ng kaligtasan, kapayapaan, patuloy na pag-aaral, at paglago para sa kanyang kinabukasan,” Villanueva said. (If the barangay is functioning well, it can be seen as a place where people find safety, peace, continuous learning, and progress.)

He added: “Sila dapat ay nilalapitan kapag may panganib. Ngayon ay tinataguan at pinagmumulan pa ng trauma.” (They should be approached in times of danger, but now they are avoided and seen as a source of trauma.)

Paghilom is a Church-based support group that helps widows, orphans, and families of drug war victims.

3. Environment and climate resilience

Clean-up and sanitation drives are good environmental practices that ensure the protection and security of barangay residents, Atienza said. 

These drives help prevent bigger risks like flooding and disaster preparedness, she said. “Kung maayos ang drainage, kung maayos ang pagtatapon ng basura, hindi magbabaha.” (If drainage systems are in good condition, if waste is managed properly, there will be no flooding.)

“If you link simple environmental issues and clean-up with disaster management and climate change issues, then you’re already starting education, civic training, community and citizen participation,” she said. 

Ateneo de Manila University sociology professor Emma Porio also pointed out that the barangay is the “first stop” for infrastructure permits.

Barangays can reject projects that will be built along fault lines or hazardous areas, have a negative impact on the environment and community, or go against their local plans, Porio told PCIJ. 

However, most development plans are carried out only for the sake of compliance, she said, adding that many barangays “are not as empowered as we want them to be because they cannot resist the private sector and other pressures.”

Earlier this year, PCIJ reported that a barangay captain in Batangas City, where there is a boom in gas projects, also reports for work in a power plant. A political science lecturer said this was a “direct conflict of interest.”

4. Health 

Another area that barangays can prioritize is primary health care, with focus on preventing both common diseases and epidemics, Atienza said. 

“The last pandemic saw how weak primary and preventive health services are because the focus is on the more expensive, curative aspect, like hospital care,” she said.

The UP professor said developing healthier communities and “making hospitals the last resort” would be cheaper and better in the long run. 

Meanwhile, reflecting on his personal experiences in their community, Ariate said the pandemic highlighted the crucial role of the barangay in providing basic services.

“Ang biruan ng mga tao ngayon… panahon ng paniningil,” said Ariate. “Maaalala kung ilang kilong bigas at sardinas, kung paano ini-impose ang quarantine.” (People joke… this is the time of collecting. We’ll remember how many kilos of rice and cans of sardines [were distributed], how the quarantine was imposed.)

Aside from these, barangays also monitored infected residents and their households, limited exposure to patients, controlled the movement of people and goods, and rolled out vaccines. 

“It’s important to look at how barangay councils delivered [these services] during the pandemic,” Ariate said. 

5. Human rights

In 1994, the Commission on Human Rights established the Barangay Human Rights Action Center (BHRAC), which is supposed to bring human rights information and protection to the grassroots. 

But nearly three decades later, not all provinces and barangays in the country have established such centers.

As well, many BHRACs “exist only in name,” Pahra’s Simbulan told PCIJ.

The centers are supposed to not only engage in human rights education but also serve as a “complaint referral, especially in far-flung barangays … where people [need] to seek redress for violations of rights,” she said.  

Simbulan lamented that the project has not been taken seriously by local government officials. She said the centers are not often provided with sufficient budget, and the assignment of barangay human rights action officers is made only for compliance. 

Aside from strengthening BHRACs, Simbulan also encouraged barangays to use a rights-based approach and be more transparent in their operations. 

“[People] should be provided with an opportunity to raise questions to scrutinize whatever plans are formulated at the level of the barangay, including the existing budget, budget allocation, and spending,” she said. 

For Yusingco, civic participation in the barangay is a microcosm of the national government.

“The barangay is a lifeline to our democracy,” he said. “If we forget what it’s for, which is for us to engage in governance, then our democracy will die.”

The post Why you should vote in the Oct. 30 barangay elections appeared first on CoverStory.

On April 3, Jimenez and the majority of the 11-member Board of Regents, the university’s highest policymaking body, selected UP College of Law Dean Edgardo Carlo L. Vistan II as the new chancellor of Diliman, the UP System’s prime unit.

Vistan won over archeologist Victor Paz and math professor Fidel Nemenzo, who had been endorsed as the most qualified among the three by faculty members, student councils and organizations, and staff unions.

Nemenzo was seeking the post again after completing his three-year term as chancellor in March and failing to win the BOR’s support for his bid for the UP presidency last December.

“When the decision of the BOR on the chancellor came out, we were very surprised and saddened,” said College of Engineering Dean Tonette Tanchuling, who opened a public forum on April 17 on the fate and future of “democratic governance” in the university. She said many questioned the basis of the choice after considering the highest degree obtained, academic rank, administrative qualification and teaching experience of each of the three nominees.

Vistan has a master of laws degree and is a candidate for doctor of laws at Yale University. Paz and Nemenzo have a doctorate in their respective fields. Vistan taught for eight years; Paz, 36; and Nemenzo, 31. Nemenzo is a Professor 12, Paz a Professor 11, and Vistan an Assistant Professor 7. 

Of the three, Nemenzo has the most varied administrative experience.

‘The issue is merit’

Tanchuling said the three candidates all had the eligibility requirements to be nominated for chancellor. “But why are we opposing [the BOR’s choice]? The issue is merit, which should be primordial in a university,” she said.

All students and faculty undergo evaluation to uphold academic excellence and integrity. “These criteria should also be applied to our academic leaders,” she said.

Only four of the 11 regents, voted for Nemenzo—the student, faculty and staff, plus another regent.

“It is very sad that the credentials essential to an academic leader were ignored,” Tanchuling said. “We cannot accept that our administration has utterly disregarded our voice and our values of democratic governance, academic freedom, academic excellence and integrity that we have long fought for.”

Tanchuling was one of the 94 senior faculty, including 19 professor emeriti, students, alumni and staff who signed an open letter to Jimenez dated April 10 expressing dismay over the decision and demanding transparency and accountability in the search process. 

They urged Jimenez, who took office on Feb. 10, to make the search committee report public in order to clarify the basis for the BOR’s decision. They specifically want an explanation for his own vote and for him to persuade the other regents to also disclose their reasons for choosing Vistan.

Latrell Felix, the University Student Council chair, said that after the BOR’s decision was announced, she confronted Jimenez about the selection process.

“He kept on saying, ‘After all, the votes of the Board of Regents were based on their individual conscience and good faith,’” Felix said. “But is that really so? Because there are communities at stake and it’s supposed to be on the communities’ side that you are going to cast your vote. This is not based on your personal choices. You do not represent yourself but the community.” 

The head of the Commission on Higher Education chairs the BOR, with the UP president as cochair. The other regents are the heads of the Senate and House committees on higher education, three Malacanang appointees, and four others representing the student, faculty, staff and alumni who are chosen by their constituents.

‘Extraordinary significance’

The signatories to the open letter to Jimenez acknowledged that the BOR was a “collegial and democratic” body, but said that with regard to academic governance, the UP community’s “preference assumes extraordinary significance and deserves to be respected.”

“This selection simply defies logic and goes against the standards of academic meritocracy—which we judge ourselves by—as well as elementary standards of good governance, and basic principles of organizational management,” they said.

Jimenez’s handling of the selection process less than two months after he took office “will signal” how he will lead UP for the rest of his term.

“The trust and confidence of the UP Diliman community, the support of your constituency, and the credibility of your Office have now been seriously compromised,” said the signatories, addressing Jimenez. “Instead of seeing your first selection process as an opportunity to gain wider adherence and support from a vibrant institution, you have chosen to alienate and disavow it.”

Nemenzo lost in the BOR vote for UP president last Dec. 10 despite being considered the frontrunner among six candidates.

Tanchuling said the real issue was not the loss of one personality. “What was lost was democratic governance; thus, it was the university that was defeated,” she said.

‘Under siege’

Speaking at the same public forum on Monday, Professor Emeritus Eduardo Tadem of the UP Asian Center said recent events showed that UP was “under siege and assault from ‘trapo’ politics and transactional horse-trading.”

“April 3 would be remembered as a day of infamy and shame at the University of the Philippines Diliman,” he said.

The BOR’s actions meant that it has “abandoned the time-honored tradition and principles of UP (or any institution of higher learning) for democratic governance, accountability, transparency, academic excellence, collegiality and leadership legitimacy,” according to Tadem.

Section 3 (h) of the UP Charter itself states that the purpose of the national university is to “provide democratic governance in the University based on collegiality, representation, accountability, transparency and active participation of its constituents.” 

A “Movement for Democratic Governance in UP” has been formed in the wake of the new Diliman chancellor’s appointment.

Critics say that the BOR’s actions merely reflect the general condition outside the university and that the alleged moves against the democratic rights of the UP community must be resisted.

“What we don’t have [in UP], or the absence of democratic governance, it’s the same with our national government,” said former Faculty Regent Ramon Guillermo, director of the Center for International Studies.

Guillermo also noted that over the past two years, the BOR had been calling an increasing number of “executive sessions,” or meetings held with no staff present and with no formal recording of what was discussed.

“It has become normal,” he said.

Tanchuling said the rest of the country must know about what is happening because “we are a public university.”

“This is the people’s taxes. All Filipinos have a connection to UP,” she said.

Tadem said that “whether we like it or not, the whole country, the entire nation, is looking up to UP” as the “cream of the crop.”

“The future is at stake here. If we do not make a stand here in the University of the Philippines, how can we make a stand outside the university?” he said, adding:

“And what kind of example can we show to our families, to our countrymen, if we just lie down and accept our rights being trampled upon inside the university? What kind of graduates will we produce who will serve the people in the future?”

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Nikkei Asia observes that Southeast Asia remains “largely a fortress of authoritarianism, with military-based regimes (Thailand and Myanmar), dominant single parties (Vietnam, Singapore and Laos), absolute monarchies (Brunei) and old-fashioned autocrats (Cambodia) dominating the political landscape.” For the Philippines, Indonesia and Malaysia, despite “a decent record of relatively competitive and free elections, . . . all three have also seen the emergence of authoritarian populist forces and the continued marginalization of progressive parties.”

There is no dearth of progressive social movements in Southeast Asia, but their effectiveness has been blunted by state repression and their diminished ability to mobilize the numbers needed to galvanize the region’s marginalized peoples into adopting more radical alternatives.

In Thailand and Myanmar, democratic movements led by young activists and students succeeded in bringing tens of thousands into the streets in protests against military power grabs. However, their efforts could not be sustained over a longer period.

Filipino political analyst Richard Heydarian, writing for Nikkei Asia, explains: “Absent a genuine revival of progressive forces, the region is likely at best to produce democratically elected populists and at worst, regress into full-fledged authoritarianism.”

Return to power

In the Philippines, the promise of the 1986 insurrection that toppled the Marcos dictatorship quickly dissipated with the ascendancy of corporate-driven neoliberal forces and the return of traditional dynastic politicians. Worse, the May 2022 elections saw the total return of the Marcoses to power, with the dictator’s son and namesake, Ferdinand Marcos Jr., easily winning the presidency.

Vera Files, the investigative journalism group, cited the Dahas Project data gathered by the Third World Studies Center of the University of the Philippines showing that:

In the first five months (July 1 to Nov. 30, 2022) of the Marcos Jr. administration, data showed 152 drug-related killings, already exceeding the 149 killings recorded during the final six months of the Duterte government (Jan. 1 to June 30, 2022).

Related: Southeast Asia’s dismal social conditions

Worst-case study

Myanmar is the worst-case study for Southeast Asian politics. Since staging a coup against the government of Aung San Suu Kyi in February 2021, Gen. Min Aung Hlaing’s regime has killed 2,940 people and jailed 13,763, according to human rights groups, while being totally oblivious to international condemnation. Japanese journalist Shigesaburo Okumura writes, however, that “other independent research and monitoring groups put civilian deaths at over 30,000, while hundreds of thousands of internally displaced people are believed to be cowering along remote borders.”

The Myanmar generals’ intransigence may be fueled by the fact that the United States, Japan, and the European Union continue to engage in lucrative trade deals with the junta, while Russia, China and India supply it with arms and other military hardware. These export deals amounted to “a record high of $3.3 billion between January and September 2022, or about 1.6 times more than the same period a year earlier.”

Western countries, as well as the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (Asean), confine themselves to ineffective calls for the junta to reinstall Aung Saan Suu Kyi or token gestures such as disinviting the generals to international gatherings while continuing to indulge authoritarian rulers of Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam and Singapore.

Major step backward

Indonesia has a taken a major step backward in the democratic agenda. In December 2022, bowing to pressure from Islamist parties and conservative movements, Joko Widodo’s government enacted a highly controversial criminal law, the Kitab Undang-Undang Hukum Pidana (KUHP; Book of Criminal Law). This brings the government closer to the Southeast Asian authoritarian norm.

The new law limits the right to dissent; prohibits insulting the president, the vice-president, and government institutions; and criminalizes cohabitation, extramarital sex, and abortion. Human rights groups in Indonesia and abroad have denounced the new code as discriminating and oppressive against women, minorities, the LGBT community, and critics of the government.

Furthermore, Indonesian political scientist, Airlangga Pribadi Kusman notes that Article 188 of KUHP “states that any person who disseminates or promotes communism, Marxism or other understandings that violate Pancasila faces a fine or up to four years in prison.” Pancasila is Indonesia’s founding national ideology built on the five principles of national unity, humanism, democracy, social justice and belief in one god.

Military junta

Thailand continues to be ruled by a military junta camouflaged as a civilian government. After seizing power from an elected government in 2014, Gen. Prayuth Chan-ocha unilaterally declared himself prime minister and then sought legitimacy by calling for elections in 2019. But after an anti-military party performed well, Prayuth had it dissolved, and its leader, Thanathorn Juangroongruangkit, was charged with lèse-majesté, an offense against the monarchy.

The new king, Maha Vajiralongkorn, is styling himself as an absolute monarch with the support of the military. Mass protests against military rule and the monarchy led by university students are routinely repressed, and their leaders incarcerated or disappeared.

Malaysia’s November 2022 general elections may herald a turning point away from authoritarianism, with former opposition leader Anwar Ibrahim finally assuming the post of prime minister. Social movements generally welcomed this change.

But the country has been stuck in a “middle income trap” due to “sluggish growth” stemming from weak fundamentals, low investments, setbacks in productivity, and “rampant corruption” under the previous Najib regime. Politically, however, Malaysia’s bumiputra policy favoring Malays and the growing strength of Islamist parties may prove to be formidable barriers to overcome.

To gain the premiership, Anwar had to enter into a coalition with the right-wing Barisan Nasional party long identified with one-party, semi-authoritarian politics. Reform advocates feel that Anwar is taking too long to institute urgent electoral and parliamentary changes. Anwar has disappointingly rejected repealing the oppressive University and University Colleges Act which had victimized him earlier.

Virtual monopoly

Singaporean politics has been virtually monopolized by the long-ruling People’s Action Party (PAP) and the Lee family since 1959. As Freedom House cites, “the electoral and legal framework that the PAP has constructed allows for some political pluralism, but it constrains the growth of credible opposition parties and limits freedoms of expression, assembly, and association.”

In recent years laws and regulations have been enacted that give government ministers the power to regulate online content, place legal pressure on independent online news sites, and redraw parliamentary constituencies to favor the PAP.

In Vietnam, a 2023 graduate thesis at the University of the Philippines by Ima Ariate recounts the government’s modernization plan implemented since 2000 of converting agricultural land to urban use. Euphemistically named “land recovery,” the program has resulted in land grabs that deprive peasant households of farmlands they have been ironically awarded under the country’s agrarian reform program.

One-party state

Laos is described by Freedom House as “a one-party state in which the ruling Lao People’s Revolutionary Party dominates all aspects of politics and harshly restricts civil liberties.” No organized opposition exists; civil society groups are either restricted or coopted by government while domestic media is repressed. Land disputes are common, brought about by economic projects that tie the country to rising debt to China. A recurring case is the disappearance of prominent civil society leader Sombath Somphone who was abducted by police forces in 2012 and has not been seen since.

It is, therefore, not surprising that the region’s “freedom ratings” continue to deteriorate, as tracked by Freedom House (See table). Globally, freedom has taken a hit in 2022 with the world’s population living in “Free” countries registering a dramatic fall in 2019 from about 40% to 20%. In Southeast Asia, six countries were rated Not Free—Brunei, Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar, Thailand, and Vietnam. Four were rated Partly Free—Indonesia, Malaysia, Philippines, and Singapore. Only Timor-Leste got a Free rating, despite barely making it to that category.

Press freedom has been deteriorating as well

In Singapore, “authorities forced one of the city-state’s few remaining independent news outlets to shut down by suspending its license.” Thai authorities “issued a broadly worded regulation to expand their ability to prosecute individuals for distributing news deemed to incite fear in the public.” In the Philippines, Nobel Prize laureate Maria Ressa, head of the independent news website Rappler, was constantly harassed, intimidated, and swamped with libel and other court cases by the Duterte administration. In addition, the franchise of the Philippines’ biggest media network, ABS-CBN, was not renewed.

In 2018, the International Federation of Journalists (IFJ) ranked the Philippines as the “deadliest country for journalists in Southeast Asia and the worst offender in media impunity because of its high number of media killings.” Rappler notes that the 2009 Ampatuan massacre in the Philippines that killed 32 media workers stands historically as “the single deadliest attack on the media worldwide.”

Other Southeast Asian countries that ranked high in the IFJ’s “impunity scale” were Cambodia, Indonesia, Malaysia, Myanmar, Thailand, and Timor-Leste.

Meanwhile external trade and foreign investment flows into the 10 Asean member-countries continue to grow. Trade with non-Asean economies accounts for 79% of regional trade, while extra-region foreign investments take in an 81% share of the total.

For both investors and trading partners, Southeast Asia’s slide into authoritarian and non-democratic rule is obviously of no consequence.

This article is excerpted with revisions and additions from the author’s introduction “Post-pandemic Southeast Asia: Systemic perils and peoples’ alternatives” to a forthcoming publication, Towards a Peoples’ Alternative Regionalism in Southeast Asia: Volume II, of the UP Center for Integrative and Development Studies, Program on Alternative Development (UP CIDS AltDev).

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