MAGUINDANAO:The Quest for Justice is a documentary produced by the Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism on the second anniversary of the Maguindanao Massacre. After two years, the Ampatuans have allegedly ramped up efforts to reach a settlement with the families of the victims. The families of the victims continue to hold out against the proposed settlement, even as they try to survive from day to day. In the meantime, the Ampatuan clan continues to wield clout in the region with its vast resources and continuing political influence.

This is just the teaser. The entire video will be uploaded next month.

Advocates of the Freedom of Information (FOI) bill raised this question after Malacanang again failed to include the FOI bill in its list of priority measures during the Legislative Executive Development Advisory Council earlier this week.

In a statement sent out to media organizations, the Right to Know, Right Now! Coalition noted with alarm that President Benigno S. Aquino III had raised new concerns over the proposed Freedom of Information Act during the LEDAC meeting in Malacanang. These concerns were apparently added to the list of other reasons that Malacanang had been using to defend its refusal to endorse the bill to Congress.

Media and civil society groups have been pushing for the passage of a Freedom of Information Act for the last 14 years. The measure would give the media and the public easier access to official and public documents. In separate interviews with the media in 2010, then President-elect Aquino had pledged to prioritize the FOI as part of his campaign for more transparency in government.

The Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism is a part of the Right to Know, Right Now! Coalition and the Bantay FOI! Sulong FOI! Campaign.

The full text of the statement follows:

As PNoy defaults on FOI,
Congress must now take the lead

Kung talagang gusto, hahanap ng paraan.
Kung talagang ayaw, hahanap ng dahilan.

This is exactly where President Benigno Simeon C. Aquino III stands on the proposed Freedom of Information bill, which seeks only to enforce a constitutionally guaranteed right of the people to know and secure documents in the custody of government agencies.

The President says he supports the bill in principle, but that he has “specific questions and concerns” that he wants to be settled, before he endorses it as his priority legislation. His concerns, the President says, include his fears that FOI could unlock documents that might expose people to kidnappers, cause government losses in right-of-way cases because of property price speculations, and many other unwanted results.

Yet over the last 14 months in office, he has failed to answer and settle these concerns, and for as long a period, the FOI bill has languished in limbo.

A Malacañang study group on the FOI had told us about other, bigger concerns of the President. Through Deputy Speaker and Quezon Rep. Erin Tañada, chief author of the FOI bill in the House of Representatives, we informally and indirectly engaged the study group in constructive dialogue over the last six months.

Two critical concerns on exceptions were addressed over time in three successive drafts of the FOI bill that the Palace study group crafted – “national security” and the President’s deliberative process. These were in addition to existing exceptions in the FOI bill based on national defense and foreign affairs; military or law enforcement operation; privacy; trade, industrial or commercial secrets; drafts of adjudicatory decisions; privileged information in legal proceedings; executive session of Congress; and exceptions recognized in other statutes or the Constitution.

The legislative process practically ground to a halt, precisely because the President and his study group said they were drafting their own FOI bill. We had hoped that by the opening of the second regular session of Congress, the Palace draft would be done, and the President would have certified it as a priority measure.

We had hoped as much because we still remember: As the presumptive winner of the May 2010 elections, the President had promised to assign first priority to the FOI’s passage into law, and in June 2010, as president, he launched his government on the principles of transparency, accountability, and good governance.

This is the first time we are hearing that the President has new concerns about what he says could be the undesirable results of an FOI law.

The President assures us that he supports the FOI bill “in principle” but that because his concerns linger, he could not act on his own study group’s version of the FOI bill.

What seems like a state of principled indecision in Malacañang makes us wonder: Is the President part of the solution, or part of the problem, in assuring the passage of the FOI bill? Or perhaps neither, because he has chosen to pass up a chance to lead on a strategic policy issue that the Constitution has so clearly mandated him and all public officials to uphold and enforce – the people’s right to know.

The fate of the FOI bill was a leadership call on the President. We had not wished he would default. Yet because he has, we now refocus our efforts on the House of Representatives and the Senate, which should, without need for cue or advice from Malacañang, act now and quickly on the FOI bill.

We do so with eyes wide open that as it was in the 14th Congress under then President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, the FOI bill could face rough, tough sailing in the 15th Congress. While Mrs. Arroyo and her allies vigorously opposed and killed the bill before it could be ratified, Mr. Aquino and his allies now seem to want to let the bill waste away, and fade in time.

THE RIGHT TO KNOW, RIGHT NOW! COALITION/
BANTAY FOI, SULONG FOI! CAMPAIGN
17 AUGUST 2011

THE apparent inability of majority of Metro Manila local governments to respond quickly and fully to citizen requests for asset disclosure records of local officials, as well as documents on education, health, public safety and other essential services may well be a reflection of the Aquino administration’s own dithering over a Freedom of Information (FOI) law.

Yet while even President Benigno Simeon ‘Noynoy’ Aquino III himself seems unsure just how much he wants his government to be transparent, the World Bank, a solicitous donor of the Aquino administration, recently released a document that explicitly proposed that the government “put forward a Freedom of Information Act for legislative approval.”
At the same time, the latest results of a transparency and accountability drive of the Department of the Interior and Local Governments (DILG) show local governments outside of Metro Manila outperforming those in the National Capital Region.

Not one of the dozens of local governments that has so far been cited by the DILG as being “ehemplo” or good examples in planning, sound fiscal management, transparency and accountability, and valuing performance information came from Metro Manila.

A recent audit conducted by PCIJ revealed poor performance by Metro Manila local governments – more than half of which are headed by Aquino’s partymates and political allies – in fulfilling citizen requests for specific documents on the most basic services.

Most made accessing documents imbued with public interest a serious test of patience, stamina, resources, and will, with many ignoring deadlines for action imposed on them by law.

DILG honor roll

Not surprisingly, not one Metro Manila local government unit (LGU) has made it to the DILG’s latest “Good Housekeeping” honor roll that lists those from Anilao, Iloilo; Balete, Aklan; Balilihan and Catigbian in Bohol; Damulog, Bukidnon; Datu Paglas, Maguindanao; Leon B. Postigo and Tampilisan in Zamboanga del Norte; Pitogo, Quezon; Mobo, Masbate; Naawan, Misamis Oriental; San Agustin, Surigao del Sur; Santol, La Union; and Sto. Domingo, Albay.

Just last March, the DILG also cited 15 high-performing LGUs, mostly from Mindanao, “good housekeeping” such as those in Alilem in Ilocos Sur; Quezon, Isabela and Saguday in Quirino; Mataas na Kahoy in Batangas; Camaligan in Camarines Sur; Banaue and Lagawe in Ifugao; Amlan in Negros Oriental; Maribojoc in Bohol; Kawayan in Biliran; Calamba in Misamis Occidental; Dujali in Davao del Norte; Cagwait and Carrascal in Surigao del Sur, and San Jose in Dinagat Islands.

These LGUs, according to DILG Secretary Jesse Robredo, have had “no adverse” report from the Commission on Audit.

The uneven observance of transparency and accountability across LGUs – and government agencies – lingers apparently because of the absence of uniformed and clear procedures on how public officials should respond to citizen requests for documents vested with public interest that a Freedom of Information Act should have offered.

In fact, just a few weeks before President Aquino delivered his second State of the Nation Address in which FOI was among the most striking omissions, the World Bank had weighed in on the issue that civil-society organizations and some of Aquino’s allies deem of utmost importance for good governance.

The Bank last month put forth in a 349-page “Philippines Discussion Notes: Challenges and Options for 2010 and Beyond” a vigorous recommendation for Aquino to see after the passage of the FOI Act if he so wishes to achieve “inclusive growth,” as well as stamp out corruption and poverty in the land.

Big challenges

The document produced by the Philippines Country Team, World Bank and The International Finance Corporation East Asia and Pacific Department, noted that the Aquino administration “faces significant opportunities as well as considerable challenges: an opportunity for new policy directions and new coalitions to push the development agenda forward with renewed vigor, but a need to overcome the inertial forces that slow down decision making and program implementation during a transition.”

The authors said the document aims “to support the creation of a shared focus among government, civil society, business groups, and development partners on the key elements of a long-term development strategy focused on inclusive growth.”

“Deliberately selective in their coverage, the Notes offer sectoral and thematic analyses to identify key challenges, and recommend a prioritized set of actions for consideration by the new government” yet also “draws on extensive international experience and worldwide best practices, as well as past experience with what works well in the Philippines and what does not,” the authors said.

They then pointed out that in the Philippines, “breaking down the hold that vested interests have over governance requires action on multiple fronts.”

Strong signal

The authors argued: “The Administration could contribute significantly to governance reform by putting up for legislative approval a Freedom of Information (FOI) Act, as neighboring countries such as Thailand, Indonesia and India have done over the last decade. In addition to being an integral part of an open governance system, the Act would also send a strong signal that the government is committed to transparency.”

Nonetheless, even before the law is passed, the World Bank document said, “the President could immediately ensure the highest standards of public disclosure in the Executive branch of government through an Executive Order.”

Aside from stressing the need for the FOI Act to be passed, the Bank also exhorted Aquino to “select a strategic agency widely perceived to be corrupt and launch a comprehensive reform plan” to provide “a credible, though not necessarily easy, starting point for a government’s anti-corruption campaign.”

Obama project

Interestingly, despite its reticence to state clearly its position on the FOI bill, Malacañang has unfurled its efforts to promote greater transparency on the world stage.

Since mid-2010, the Aquino administration, represented by Budget and Management Secretary Florencio “Butch” Abad, has signed on to and, in fact, now sits on the steering committee of the Open Government Partnership (OGP), a multilateral, eight-country initiative launched by US President Barack Obama.

Obama’s project supposedly aims “to secure concrete commitments from governments to promote transparency, empower citizens, fight corruption, and harness new technologies to strengthen governance.”

Under the OGP, the signatory states have committed to produce results along four benchmarks – disclosure of budget documents, disclosure of asset records of public officials, passage of an FOI Act, and engagement between government and civil-society groups.

By the admission of some Cabinet members themselves, the Aquino government may claim to have achieved some progress on the first two OGP benchmarks; on the last two, little or no progress at all.
This has prompted the Bantay FOI! Sulong FOI! network of 157 civil society groups and individuals to remark: “Malacañang must understand: Its desire to assume an honored place on the world stage as one of the leading lights of transparency in the world will not fly, unless it commits to the immediate passage of the FOI Act in the Philippines.”

Practical tips

In the meantime, the seven college student interns who helped conduct PCIJ’s audit of transparency regimes in Metro Manila have drawn up some practical tips for those who may want to access information from LGUs in the absence of an FOI law:

• Put your request in writing. Most local governments require requests for information be put in writing. Many also want the request to contain the name of the person or agency making the request, as well as the purpose for the request. The City of Navotas, for instance, even has a memorandum that explicitly asks for these.
• Verify beforehand which department would be handling your specific request. Otherwise, one may well be passed from office to another, and then from one personnel to another. To save time and spare one of fits of frustration, check the LGU’s website first to see which office or official would be best to handle the request, or call or visit the LGU’s information office before writing and submitting your request letter.
• Note the name and position of the staff member who received the request. Misplaced letters and sudden attack of amnesia abound in LGUs when follow-ups are made regarding requests for information. To avoid being passed around from one staff member to another, one should record right away the name of the personnel who received the request and, if possible, that person’s contact number. It may also be wise to do this in his or her presence, with other staff members as witnesses.
• Check beforehand for dress codes, as well as specific protocols and procedures. Such information is usually available on the LGU’s website. One can also call the LGU prior to submitting the letter of request. Some LGUs do have uniform procedures and processes. Parañaque, for example, requires that all letters of request be addressed to the mayor first for approval. In Marikina, guards bar those in shorts and/or slippers from entering its city hall.
• Be aware of the time limit imposed by law on LGUs to comply with requests for information. Remind LGU personnel as well of such deadlines since they may not be aware of it themselves. Under the law, LGUs are given10 working days to act on requests for Statements of Assets, Liabilities, and Net Worth (SALNs) and 15 working days to act on requests for all other types of documents.
• Do follow-up calls. This will not only alert LGU personnel of your continued interest in your request, but will also remind them constantly of the need for them to act on it. If there is some delay, ask the reason for it; it may well be that the next step requires another letter to another office. Always ask the name of the staff handling the call, so that there is a “personnel trail” established while you track the progress of your request.
• Once the documents are provided, double check if these contain all the information requested. Just because an LGU hands over a hefty volume of paper does not mean those data sets have all that you asked for. Go over the documents before leaving the city or town offices. If there is any information lacking, ask why. It could well be that another office is responsible for a particular piece of data that had been part of your request.
• An incomplete response calls for a follow-up letter. Should there be no response within the period set by law, submit a follow-up letter reminding the LGU of your request – as well as the LGU’s duty to act on it within the legal deadline. (After receiving such a follow-up letter from PCIJ interns, the Office of the Mayor of Muntinlupa called within the day to say that the information could be had from the City Planning and Development Office.)
• Be nice and keep your cool. It may be the LGU’s duty to serve the public, but any transaction is easier to accomplish when the atmosphere is kept pleasant. For sure, a smiling citizen’s request is more likely to be processed quickly while a demand that comes with a snarl is bound to be treated with contempt and left unattended as a result. – With additional research by Anne Jeanette O. Priela, Krystal Kay S. Jimena, David Faustino T. de Castro, Essen Mei M. Miguel, Henor G. Gotis, Eric H. Rivera, and Stephanie Directo, PCIJ, July 2011

POLITICS and government, business and finance, education and culture. In all these and more, the national capital region, Metro Manila, is supposed to lead the rest of the nation. Here, bureaucrats and politicians thrive, mostly schooled and steeled in the art of governance and advisedly, the liberal ramparts of transparency and accountability.

It seems fair for citizens to expect that in Metro Manila, more than anywhere else in the Philippines, the people’s right to know and to access official information and documents would be respected. But that could well be plain wishful thinking for now.

Indeed, while President Benigno ‘Noynoy’ C. Aquino III has once more failed to reiterate a commitment to freedom of information (FOI) in his latest State of the Nation Address, the results of a recent survey by the PCIJ of access to information practices in the 16 cities and sole town of Metro Manila show that majority of the local officials and employees in these Metro Manila local government units (LGUs) continue to linger in the dark ages of closed, opaque government.

Most of the LGUs, in fact, took their sweet time in responding to requests for specific documents, unmindful of deadlines for action set in law. And if they did act at all, they disclosed only some, not all, the documents requested. The city of Caloocan even recorded net zero action, failing to take full action on any of the requests up until the end of the audit. This was even though that city’s officials had approved, orally and in writing, at least a third of the PCIJ’s requests.

Documents for citizens

Beyond simply tracking the transparency regimes obtaining in NCR, the PCIJ audit purposely zeroed in on documents with great and grave impact on the welfare of the citizens. From April to June 2011, the Center deployed seven college student interns who filed requests for six major types of documents, including the asset disclosure records of the LGU officials, as well as the budget and development plans of the LGU. The audit also focused on documents pertaining to education, health, public safety, civil registry and property, and doing business.

Surprisingly, however, the most basic documents regularly produced by LGUs proved the most difficult to get. For instance, among the 17 Metro Manila LGUs, only Makati gave complete documents on education, while a mere four – Quezon City, Parañaque, Navotas, and the San Juan Health Department Unit 1 – provided complete documents on health.

On average, only a fourth of the 17 LGUs provided their development and investment plans, and copies of the proposed and enacted budgets. The rest took no action.

Still, of all the documents requested by the PCIJ, the statements of assets, liabilities, and net worth (SALNs) were easily the most tightly guarded and thus, the hardest to obtain. In the mold and manner of national politicians, the local politicians of Metro Manila apparently hold their asset disclosure records close to their chests.

Only two cities – Marikina and Makati – willingly shared the SALNs of all their local officials. Quezon City and Navotas, meanwhile, gave the SALNs of their respective mayor and vice mayor, but came up short when it came to those of their councilors. San Juan released its vice mayor’s SALN, but not its chief executive’s; it also gave incomplete asset records of its councilors. In the rest of the LGUs, the SALNs remain sub rosa or kept under lock and key by local officials who insist on their confidentiality, in apparent indifference to, or ignorance of, the law.

Most LGUs also required requestors to secure the mayor’s approval before all the requests could be granted. This caused bureaucratic delays and most probably is a major barrier to accessing documents in the NCR.

Least opaque

In the PCIJ audit, not one of the LGUs provided all the requested information. Even Quezon City, which came out as the friendliest to access to information requests, took full action (within the 15 working days’ deadline in law for all the documents requested) on only 75 percent of all requests filed by PCIJ.

Next came Marikina, which scored 57 percent, while Pasay, Parañaque, Navotas, and Makati all granted about half of all of PCIJ’s requests. Ten other LGUs (Las Piñas, Pasig, Mandaluyong, Muntinlupa, Taguig, Valenzuela, San Juan, Malabon, Manila, and Pateros) acted only on 12.5 to 37.5 percent of all requests filed.

On average, the LGU offices that gave documents took about 10 days to do so. But the Business Permits and Licensing Office (BPLO) of Las Piñas stood out by taking only a day to respond and provide complete documents related to doing business in the city.

To do the audit, the PCIJ interns personally filed simultaneous request letters for documents with the 17 LGUs, monitored all related follow-up activities (request letters sent, phone calls and field visits made to the LGU office), and logged all activity details (name and position of responding personnel and officials, speed and nature of action or referrals made; and the type or nature of documents given or withheld).

In addition, the enrolled deadlines set in law for government agencies to act on such requests – 10 working days to act on requests for SALNs and 15 working days to act on requests for all other types of documents – were used as reference for rating the performance of the various LGUs in this audit.

The audit stretched across a two-month period – one month for fieldwork and data gathering, and another for follow-up activities and data collation. In all, the PCIJ interns filed with the 17 LGUs a combined total of 135 request letters, made 437 phone calls, and received 266 referrals for many requests were tossed around two or more offices in the same LGUs.

The requests were filed with the LGU departments and units that are the custodians of the documents, including the Office of the Mayor, the Health Department, the Public Order and Safety Department, the Business Permit and Licensing Office, and the Civil Registry Department.

Public interest

The documents requested are clearly imbued with public interest because they enroll information and data that should benefit public weal and welfare:

• For education, the PCIJ asked for two sets of data: statistics or the number of schools and teachers in each LGU, as well as on plans and projects to construct new school buildings, hire new teachers, and acquire new learning materials and copies of contracts.
• For health, the PCIJ requested information on the actual expenses the LGUs spend on medicines and the volume of medicines distributed per barangay; number of hospitals and medical personnel; and projects undertaken by the health department.
• For public safety, the PCIJ sought data on the number of police officers and other public order personnel, how the police coordinate with barangay officials, how the police or barangay respond to cases, protocols on public-order incidents, and the number and the amount LGUs spend to build and maintain lampposts.
• For civil registry and property, the PCIJ asked about the types of civil registry and property documents, how to obtain these documents, fees and timetable involved in obtaining documents.
• For doing business, the PCIJ requested details on the documentary requirements, request and application process, LGU departments in charge, number of processing days, and fees involved. In addition, the PCIJ sought information on how to locate records of a business establishment, which office tracks records of registered and non-registered businesses in the LGU, and the benefits of registering a business.
• For other basic, premise data on the LGU and its officials, the PCIJ requested five documents: the SALN and personal data sheet (PDS) of the mayor, vice mayor and councilors; local development plan; local investment plan; proposed budget; and enacted budget.

How and why the citizens must be entitled to these documents, and could benefit from them, are matters affirmed in law and validated by the contents of the documents themselves.

The Local Government Code of 1991 mandates each LGU to prepare a local development plan and a public investment program, which would outline a city or a municipality’s development and budget priorities and serve as basis of its programs and projects for the year.

Useful details

These documents would significantly help citizens to understand the local government’s plans for the city and the barangays and how it intends to spend public resources. These documents would clearly enable citizen participation in policymaking and governance.

For instance, the 2011 Annual Investment Program (AIP) provided by Quezon City states that the city’s development priorities are disaster-risk mitigation, environment management, socio-economic services to empower the poor, tourism development, and effective city management.

To achieve these plans, Quezon City’s AIP outlines its budget allocation for each program, project, and activity, as well as the office or agency assigned to implement each sector.

For 2011, Quezon City has allocated P15.75 million for maternal health care for pregnant and post-partum mothers, and routine care for newborn infants. Residents, especially mothers and expectant mothers who do not have enough funds to avail themselves of private health care services, would find this information useful.

Quezon City has also allotted P2.49 million to provide services to physically, mentally, and socially disabled persons 0 to 60 years of age in order to enhance or develop their capabilities for self-reliance and productivity. Families with a disabled member may then inquire about this program and seek assistance from Quezon City’s Social Services Development Department.

In the meantime, citizens may find information pertaining to education useful so that they themselves can assess and audit education projects of their LGUs.

Makati, which was the only LGU that provided complete documents on education services, gave copies of the contracts that the city government signed with contractors to build new school buildings and to improve or maintain existing ones.

The contracts offered details on the amount of the project, project scope and timetable, and the duties and responsibilities of the contractor. With these data on hand, parents of students in a school may actually be able to check if the project had been fully implemented.

And then there are the SALNs, which are considered to be key in monitoring the wealth of public officials and in discouraging corruption. Yet most Metro Manila LGUs found reason to keep SALNs of certain officials away from the public eye.

The officials of Malabon’s Human Resource Department, for one, insisted that SALNs are “confidential” documents. Navotas, for its part, was quick to approve the release of the SALN of the mayor, but uncertainties on the part of the councilors resulted in their failure to hand over their SALNs.

Pasay was as problematic in the release of the SALNs and personal data sheets of its senior officials supposedly because the request letter had been misplaced.

In Pateros, the head of the Municipal Personnel Office said all 14 town councilors would have to unanimously agree first before any of their SALNs could be released to the PCIJ. Some councilors agreed, while the others refused. Because the personnel officer has imposed an all-or-nothing rule, not a single SALN of Pateros’s local executives was released.

(By contrast, Marikina, which ranked second to Quezon City as the most transparent city in NCR, provided the SALNs of its local executives within just five days from receipt of the PCIJ request.)

Most opaque

The four least transparent cities (Malabon, Manila, Pateros, and Caloocan) actually shared one thing in common: Their personnel showed a common tendency to refer requestors to other LGU departments within the same city halls, needlessly prolonging the process of obtaining documents.

In quite a few cases, too, many LGU personnel seemed totally clueless about their obligations in the Constitution and in Republic Act No. 6713 (the Code of Conduct and Ethical Standards for Public Officials and Employees) to be transparent in all their actions involving use of public funds, and in handling documents vested with public interest.

In Caloocan – the least transparent among the Metro Manila LGUs — only the police department and the civil registry office responded to the requests within the 15-day deadline set in law. All the other agencies of Caloocan either ignored or denied the other requests.

Unfortunately, even the offices there that promised to release documents, including those on education and health services, and those pertaining to doing business in the city, have yet to do so as of this writing. The police department in particular said it had misplaced the PCIJ’s request letter, causing interminable delays.

In Pateros, NCR’s lone municipality, the PCIJ filed requests with eight various departments. The town’s civil servants generally had an accommodating demeanor, but this failed to compensate for the insufficient documents they eventually released. Four offices took action but only one gave a complete set of documents requested. Pateros ended up being the second least transparent LGU in NCR.

Manila, NCR’s oldest and premier city, is the third least transparent. While its officials approved action on 57 percent of the PCIJ’s requests, they actually gave complete documents on only 14 percent of all requests filed.

The PCIJ sent request letters to seven offices of Manila City Hall but only four responded within the 15-day deadline set in law – the Mayor’s Office (SALNs), the business department, the City Civil Registry, and the assessor’s department. Manila’s police and health departments have yet to respond to the PCIJ’s requests, while the mayor’s office has yet to act on a separate request for data on education services.

Malabon, the fourth least transparent city, actually approved up to 83.33 percent of the PCIJ’s requests within four to 11 days. But it released the complete documents requested for only 16.67 percent of the requests, within the lawful deadline.

Malabon and Pateros cited the “confidentiality” status of certain documents for refusing the requests.

Among those that performed better than the bottom dwellers, the need for the mayor’s go-signal before certain documents are released was revealed to be a major block for those seeking access to public data. In Parañaque City, Mayor Florencio Bernabe Jr. had even issued a memorandum that in effect gave him sole power to approve all requests for information. The memo was supposedly based on a provision in R.A. No. 6713, which states that public offices are given the discretion not to disclose any information on the grounds of public safety and “undue advantage.” Out of the 10 requests that the PCIJ filed, only five were granted within 15 working days.

Politics & revenues

The practice in Parañaque prevails as well in Taguig, Pasay, Las Piñas, Mandaluyong, and Navotas even as no written memorandum requiring the mayor’s approval has been issued.

In Pasig, basic documents and those pertaining to education services could not be released simply because during the month-long data gathering for this audit, Mayor Bobby Eusebio was often out of the office. His deputies said there was no definite schedule when he would report for work.

Political rivalry also got in the way of accessing documents in Taguig. Majority of the requests were denied there supposedly because the documents had to be kept “confidential” on account of an ongoing court case between Mayor Laarni Cayetano and her losing rival in the May 2010 elections, retired Supreme Court justice Dante Tinga.

Only the documents from Taguig’s BPLO, the Assessor’s Office, and the City Health Department were provided. Requests filed with the Mayor’s Office, the Public Safety and Order Office (POSO), and the City Budget Office were not granted within the 15-working day deadline set in law.

Documents pertaining to civil registry records and on doing business in Metro Manila were the easiest to secure across the metropolis. In fact, all 17 LGUs provided information on various civil registry and property documents, as well as the procedures, fees, and number of days it would take them to process requests.

As for doing business, 14 of the 17 LGUs gave information on the documentary requirements, the process for applying for business permits and registering business establishments, and the fees involved. In many cases, the data were enrolled in brochures and pamphlets published by the LGUs.

These two offices (Civil Registry and BPLO) conduct regular transactions with citizens every day; releasing documents thus seems almost routinary to them. In addition, these transactions are triggers of revenues (processing and permit fees) and take on the nature of business processes beneficial to the LGUs. - With research and reporting by Karol Anne M. Ilagan, Anne Jeanette O. Priela, Krystal Kay S. Jimena, David Faustino T. de Castro, Essen Mei M. Miguel, Henor G. Gotis, Eric H. Rivera, Stephanie Directo, and Jessa Mae B. Jarilla, PCIJ, July 2011.

IT HAS been described as an “investment in the next generation,” with its supposed results of millions of healthier, better educated Filipinos not expected to be realized anytime soon. But the Conditional Cash Transfer (CCT) program is also an investment that is drawing a substantial chunk of its capital from foreign loans, a fact that has many observers raising red flags.

“The poor of the future will be the ones who will carry the burden of paying off this debt,” says Freedom from Debt Coalition Executive Director Milo Tanchuling, who believes it would be better if the CCT relied on locally sourced funds. That the government is also vague about alternative funding prospects for the program has only made those like Tanchuling uneasy – and wondering if it’s an initiative that is sustainable.

In fact, official records show that the CCT had started out as an entirely government-funded program. But with a dramatic expansion in the program’s coverage since 2008, as well as the acceleration of its implementation, the government opted to supplement the CCT budget with monies from the World Bank and the Asian Development Bank (ADB). Altogether, these loans amount to $805 million or P34.6 billion at current exchange rates.

The funds are intended to support, among other expenses, the targeting of beneficiaries for the CCT, cash transfers to beneficiary-households, project monitoring and impact evaluation, and the institutional strengthening of the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD), the CCT’s lead undertaker.

Official data show that for 2010-2011, about 32 percent or P10.2 billion of the expenses for the CCT would be paid through these loans.

Big money

It’s obviously not free money. The $405-million World Bank loan under its Social Welfare and Development Reform Project allows for a 25-year repayment period including the 10-year grace period (or when the principal does not yet have to be repaid). This means that the Philippines will have to remit its first payment in 2020, and finish paying up by 2034, or after three more presidents, apart from Aquino, would have served their full terms.

The $400-million ADB loan, meanwhile, needs to be repaid in 20 years, including a five-year grace period. The government will have to start paying the ADB loan in March 2016 and continue to do so twice a year until September 2035.

The government’s CCT project involves a total estimated cost of US$1.29 billion for 923,000 households from 2009-2014.  Only a third of the total cost will be shouldered by the government while two-thirds will be financed by loans from the World Bank and the ADB, according to an August 2010 report of the ADB.

According to Socioeconomic Planning Secretary Cayetano W. Paderanga Jr., the long-term nature of the loans will make it much easier for the government to “spread (the payments) out.”

This is important, he says, because the CCT-related loans are not the only foreign debts taken on by the Philippines. Indeed, Bureau of Treasury records reveal that by the end of 2009, the national government’s total foreign and domestic debt was already at P4.4 trillion. By last January, that figure had risen to P4.74 trillion.

As if those figures aren’t mind-boggling enough, there are still the interest payments to consider. For this year alone, says the Department of Budget and Management (DBM), at least P357 billion or about two-fifths of the amount set aside by the government for debt service will go to interest payments.

Not for profit?

CCT advocates have pointed out that the World Bank and ADB loans for the program are concessional loans or those with interest rates that are lower than market rates. World Bank country director Bert Hofman himself says that the international lending agency does not stand to gain financially from the CCT. While the bank does charge interest, he says that’s “only enough to cover (the Bank’s) costs.”

“We don’t make any profits in that sense,” says Hofman. “That’s not our intent. Our intent is poverty alleviation and the financing is a vehicle.”

But the unsettled mystery is why the World Bank extended a bigger loan for the CCT, despite an assessment by its own team that CCTs in most parts of the world do not guarantee fantastic strategic results in the fight against poverty.

A 2009 policy research report by the World Bank, for instance, found CCTs to have increased “the likelihood that households will take their children for preventive health checkups, but that has not always led to better child nutritional status.” The report also found that “school enrollment rates have increased substantially among program beneficiaries, but there is little evidence of improvements in learning outcomes.”

The report – authored by Ariel Fiszbein and Norbert Schady – reviewed assessments made on CCT programs in several countries worldwide. It concluded that while CCTs were “effective” in “reducing short-term poverty” and “increasing the use of education and health services… the evidence of CCT impacts on final outcomes in health and education… is more mixed.”

The same report also found “ample reasons to be cautious” and warned governments to “avoid transforming the obvious virtues of CCTs into a blind advocacy campaign in support of them.”

The report stressed the necessity of combining the CCT with other programs “to improve the quality of the supply of health and education services, and should provide other supporting services” in order to “maximize their potential effects on the accumulation of human capital.”

Yet still, the World Bank gave the Philippines a bigger loan for its expanded project, even before it could finish a full assessment of the first two years of the CCT’s implementation under the Arroyo administration.

Review debt policy

The amounts involved are hardly small. IBON Foundation Research Head Sonny Africa says that by his think tank’s “conservative estimate,” interest payments to the World Bank for the CCT program could reach $94.6 million. The corresponding figure for the ADB loan $107.4 million, for a combined total loan service of $1.007 billion (P44.31 billion). Thus, says Africa, for every $4 borrowed by the government to help finance the CCT, the country will need to pay $1 as interest.

As it is, both Tanchuling and Africa attribute the government’s apparent budget deficiency for social services to the country’s automatic debt payments, which they say eat up a huge portion of the budget. Part of the solution therefore is not only to avoid taking on more debt, but also, Africa says, to put a cap on debt payments. He argues that even if this were done temporarily, it would already provide the government the space to “reinvest on the domestic economy, in rural construction, education, and on industries.”

For Tanchuling, even just a review of the country’s current debt payments is critical. He considers it quite puzzling that the country’s debt stock continues to rise despite the fact that the government “regularly pays what is due.”

He suspects that many of those debts are illegitimate in nature, meaning that the country did not really benefit from those loans. One classic example was the loan to fund the construction of the Bataan Nuclear Power Plant during Martial Law. Despite the billions of pesos borrowed, the power plant never became operational.

A more recent example, says Tanchuling, is the P503.65-million loan from the Bank Austria that the government took out in 1997 for medical-waste incinerators for 26 public hospitals. The incinerators turned out to be an “obsolete technology” and did not even pass the emission level standard of the Department of Health and the World Health Organization. In fact, as early as 2003, the Clean Air Act already prohibited the use of such incinerators. Yet, Tanchuling notes, the government continues to pay P100 million each year to pay off its debt to Bank Austria.

It might bring Tanchuling and Africa some comfort that the Aquino administration is now busy “reviewing and re-arranging certain projects.” In fact, Paderanga says that the government “has already stopped certain projects that it has thought were not worth doing.” But he declines to name the specific projects, financing institutions, and contractors involved “because the government does not want to embarrass them.”

Big social returns

CCT supporters, of course, are not about to lump the poverty alleviation program with such ventures. Filomeno Sta. Ana III of the group Action for Economic Reforms (AER) even says that the hefty interest payments the country will be making for the foreign loans for the program is “insignificant” when compared to the “social returns that the country stands to gain from the CCT in the short- and long-term.”

Actually, both Africa and Tanchuling also say that borrowing is not necessarily a bad thing – provided that the loans are put into good use as development instruments. But one of the problems with this country’s borrowing, says Tanchuling, is that it seems to have become a knee-jerk approach for the current and past administrations instead of being part of a well-thought-out plan.

Africa, for his part, talks of a “two-way dynamic” in which the government on one end “wants money, so (it) will design programs that (it knows) will be acceptable to the World Bank.” At the other end, says Africa, is the World Bank touting “certain programs like the CCTs, which it has been pushing for the last decade and a half.”

World Bank’s Hofman offers a different picture, saying, “It is not us determining what we’re financing in the Philippines. It’s the government that determines what we can usefully finance in the Philippines.”

The way the World Bank works, he explains, is through the development of a “country assistance strategy,” which outlines the Bank’s priorities based on “what the government wants from us in terms of knowledge and project financing.” Currently, says Hofman, that strategy goes under the banner of “making growth work for the poor” and the Bank’s “overarching target of inclusive growth.”

Urged to borrow?

And yet even Albay Governor Jose ‘Joey’ Salceda, an economist and staunch ally of President Benigno Simeon ‘Noynoy’ C. Aquino III, comments quite candidly that even without the CCT, foreign lending institutions such as the World Bank “would have given us the money anyway.” According to Salceda, these institutions have a tendency to “urge the government to borrow.”

There lies another worry for people like Tanchuling and Africa: Once the government starts borrowing from foreign lenders for a program, it cannot seem to stop.  In the case of the CCT, the Aquino administration has set as target 4.6 million beneficiary-families by 2016. While there’s no telling whether the program will still be running by then and beyond, the World Bank itself says that similar initiatives in other countries tend to run for years and years – and supported by loans.

World Bank Human Development Country Sector Coordinator Nazmul Chaudhury says that after an initial four-year cycle for its CCT program, Bangladesh requested another loan from the international lending agency. He also says that Mexico’s program, which is considered one of the most successful so far, “has been running for many, many years” with the help of loans from the Bank.

Socioeconomic Planning Secretary Paderanga says that the Philippine version of the CCT “will be a continuing program…up to the extent that the economy has not yet developed.” But he is uncertain how the CCT would be funded should it continue beyond 2016.

“We will have to look at the resources at that time,” he says.

Salceda, though, says that the key to sustain anti-poverty projects like the CCT is for the government to automatically direct at least one percent of the gross domestic product (GDP) to the poor, just like the Venezuelan model where “the revenues from oil are directly earmarked for the poor.” He argues that if local governments are assured of internal revenue allotments, then “the poor should have a direct share in the national income.”

May lend more

In any case, Hofman says that should the government ever decide to ask the World Bank for another loan to fund future cycles of the CCT, the Bank’s approval would “depend on the performance of the CCT here” or “how it fits within the overall evolving framework of social protection in the Philippines.”

The nature of World Bank’s assistance could also change to technical assistance instead of being a loan, he says. According to the Bank executive, this is what happened with the World Bank’s assistance for Mexico’s CCT program, which began “heavy on the technical aspect.” But later on, says Hofman, the Bank’s assistance “focused on the supply side.”

Another factor to consider would be the fiscal situation of the government – “whether they would actually need any World Bank financing,” Hofman says. Adds Chaudhury: “Maybe the Philippines would have a completely different paradigm (by then)… But it’s really depending on the government.”

To Africa, however, such loans would make more sense – and lead to more universal and lasting results – if they were direct investments in the public health and education system and in creating domestic industries. He says that if these funds were used to develop the rural sector, the government would already effectively address the plight of three-fourths of the population who reside in the rural areas. That would then mean less or no need for programs like the CCT.

For sure, Africa can hardly be pleased with the government’s hard sell of the CCT, which a member of the Aquino Cabinet says is a reflection of the current administration being “defensive” about its anti-poverty programs. This, the cabinet member observes, is largely because of the administration’s failure to communicate its programs effectively to the public.

It could also be because government officials cannot really seem to grasp the CCT’s limits – with no less than President Aquino himself appearing to have misconstrued the CCT as an immediate relief to widespread hunger. Last April, the Social Weather Stations (SWS) revealed the results of its first-quarter survey, which said 4.1 million families had experienced hunger in the three months preceding the poll. The president questioned SWS’s sampling method, which he thought was Luzon and Metro Manila-leaning. He then said that the survey failed to “capture those who benefited from (the administration’s) CCT program,” who are mostly located in the Visayas and Mindanao.

Last September, Social Welfare Secretary Corazon ‘Dinky’ Soliman was also quoted as saying that the CCT is “a life-saver to those drowning in poverty.” Notably, however, Soliman has since toned down her description of the CCT, and is content with saying that it is an important intervention to improve the education and health status of poor Filipinos.

These days, Secretary Paderanga says that the government itself “hopes that there will be less need (for the CCT) in the future.”  This is why, he says, there is “a very strong emphasis on massive infrastructure investment in order to help businesses grow.”

Paderanga explains that the Philippine Development Plan (PDP) 2011-2016, which was released just last week, will provide the framework for “economic activities that would generate employment and reduce poverty much more directly.” He cites in particular business process outsourcing (BPO), tourism, and agro-industrial processing as the main areas to be targeted by the government.

Paderanga also says that the PPDP’s overarching theme, “governance and anti-corruption” – essentially a translation of Aquino’s campaign slogan “Kung walang corrupt, walang mahirap” – is expected to “reduce the cost of doing business, which will also further increase investments by the private sector.”

“If the economy starts to operate and it demands more labor then the unemployment rate will go down,” he says.

Paderanga is confident that, with the kind of economic policies that the administration is putting in place, the economy will grow “bigger in the future,” with an ever-increasing revenue collection and discipline. He predicts that by the time the government repays the loans for the CCT, “it will be a small part of (government’s) problem.” – PCIJ, May 2011

CCT beneficiary-families are also very thankful and happy about the benefits they receive from the program.

And while there have been no widespread changes in the sources of independently-generated income and income-levels of 4Ps households since the program began, the cash grants have eased the severity of lean periods and enable more expenditures and consumption of basic necessities and some non-staple commodities and services during abundant periods.

At the barangay level, the program seems to have helped increase the number of children who have been immunized, as well as in improving children’s weights and families’ ability to manage sickness in the household. Greater awareness of maternal health concerns was also observed.

One significant change, though, was in the physical and material readiness of the children to attend school. Indeed, the IPC researchers note that the CCT children came to class clothed more properly, equipped with the necessary materials, and with full stomachs. The clothing, materials and projects, and food also seem to have made students more interested to come to school and be more active in class.

Parents as well were more participative, interacting more with teachers to monitor their children’s performance. At the very least, they no longer had to feel ashamed about any unpaid school fees.

A reduction of child labor in the areas visited by the IPC was attributed to the program’s frowning on child labor. The need for children to work at an early age remained just so poor households could survive, but the CCT program seems to have led to greater awareness and sensitivity about child labor.

Now the bad news: It remains unclear whether the positive behavioral changes observed were simply a result of the beneficiaries’ compliance with the CCT conditionalities (and could therefore disappear once the program ends) or actually signal the onset of long-lasting improvements.

The CCT families themselves were very unsure of how they would fare once the program ends, seemingly convinced that their future was still bleak. Majority did not see how their children could continue without the CCT, much less complete their schooling.

Says the IPC study: “At this rate then, whether school attendance will translate into academic achievement, completion of education, and eventually gainful employment remains blurry. Parents themselves can only be hopeful about their children completing high school. They acknowledge the lack of other income generating opportunities, high cost of education, and limited provision and duration of 4Ps as major constraints to their children’s full acquisition and benefit of education. The teachers recognize the same formidable constraints and are likewise wary, even befuddled about opportunities for children and youth from the (CCT) households.” – Che de los Reyes, PCIJ, May 2011

SOCIAL WATCH Co-Convener Marivic Raquiza considers it “very one-sided” that the government monitors compliance by beneficiaries – the so-called demand side – of the Conditional Cash Transfer (CCT) program, but not the supply side, which the national and local government should take care of.

After all, a lack in the latter would make it harder for the beneficiaries to comply with the conditions tied to their cash grants and for the government’s stop-gap poverty alleviation program to meet its goals.

“If we want the participants to do their end of the bargain,” says Raquiza, “government should do its end of the bargain. And that has to be monitored.”

That, however, could take some doing. As of last January, the CCT was already being implemented in about 98.7 percent of the country’s provinces, half its cities, and 62 percent of its municipalities. But by the assessment of the Department of Social Welfare and Development’s (DSWD), which is the head agency in implementing the CCT, education facilities are often inadequate if not totally absent, and health and education personnel and supplies scant in majority of the CCT areas.

This has led many observers and development experts to say that the haste in which President Benigno Simeon ‘Noynoy’ C. Aquino III, as well as his immediate predecessor Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, has expanded the CCT’s scope not only seems to defy logic, but could also end up counterproductive.

Indeed, almost three years ago, Philippine Institute for Development Studies (PIDS) senior research fellow Dr. Gilberto Llanto had warned the then Arroyo government against a rapid expansion of the CCT given the limited “fiscal space.” Instead, he said, the government should “sit down and look at both supply and demand issues so people can start talking about absorptive capacity and other things.”

CCT HOPEFULS. Residents of a barangay in Metro Manila search for their names on the latest shortlist of beneficiaries of the Conditional Cash Transfer (CCT) Program posted by the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD). Photo by Che de los Reyes.

But the Arroyo administration failed to heed his advice, and the Aquino government has since followed the lead of its predecessor. Since 2008, the number of CCT beneficiary-families has increased annually by more than half a million on average, and there seems no stopping that trend.

Today the program that began with just 4,459 beneficiary-families in March 2007 now has about 1.4 million. The government wants that figure to reach 2.3 million by this December, a number that is nearly seven times the program’s beneficiaries in 2008.

Full throttle

“The government is racing ahead and we were running behind it,” says Bert Hofman, country director of the World Bank, which has been financing earlier CCT programs in other countries like Brazil and Mexico. “That, I think, is a fair way of putting it.”

The initiative, he says, “was supposed to start very slow.” So when the Philippine government began expanding its CCT program sometime in 2009, Hofman says that even officials of the international lending institution “got a little nervous.”

According to the World Bank executive, the move diverted from the original plan, which was to “evaluate (the initial run of the program) and test the procedures…and then gradually expand it.”

In fact, DSWD had originally planned the CCT’s yearly expansion at a much more conservative 350,000 beneficiary-families at a cost of around P5 billion each time. Even then, the agency was already struggling to cope with the onslaught of additional duties that each batch brought in.

Hofman, however, says that when food and fuel crises struck the country in 2008, “it became such an urgency to have a better social protection system.” By the next year, he says, the Philippines was asking the World Bank for a loan to finance part of the rapidly expanding CCT.

Apparently, the Arroyo government wanted CCT beneficiary-families to reach one million by the end of that year. But it would not reach the target within that time frame; DSWD records show only 665,542 beneficiary-families in the program by end-2009, for which a total of P8.3 billion was disbursed. The last budget signed by Arroyo meanwhile would include a P10-billion allocation for the CCT, or an eight-fold rise in just three years.

A DSWD insider says people at the agency had been surprised by then President Arroyo’s announcement of having a million CCT families within 2009. But since it was the year before national elections were to be held, the insider figures the decision may have been politically motivated.

Funds ready but…

That theory was echoed by World Bank officials in Manila, according to an Aquino Cabinet secretary. The loan for the expanded phase of the CCT was ready for release in early 2010, or during the last months of the Arroyo administration, but the Aquino Cabinet member says that the Bank decided to buy some time before releasing the money. As the official recalls it, the unsaid argument was that since the May 2010 elections would surely usher in a new government, it would be better that the funds not be used to prop the campaign of the Arroyo-backed candidates.

Interestingly, the DSWD personnel also thinks politics is behind President Aquino’s move to expand the program even more, as soon as he came to Malacañang in June 2010. This is despite the fact that save for the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao (ARMM) the country is not going to have elections until 2013 yet.

DSWD Secretary Corazon ‘Dinky’ Soliman says, though, “The reason why we continued and expanded it to bigger numbers is because (considering) the sheer number of those in need, of the impoverished, we needed to do a strategic intervention on two key areas of concern that will help very poor families move out of poverty. That’s education and health.”

Another reason, says Soliman, is that the government is trying its best to meet the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs), which include poverty alleviation, as well as specific health and education targets, by a 2015 deadline.

Politics & poverty

Llanto of PIDS himself concedes that through the CCT, Aquino has been able to “respond effectively to the political challenge of addressing the immediate needs of those who have put him in power.”

Albay Governor and CCT advocate Jose ‘Joey’ Salceda also argues that at the very least, the program fulfills the ‘satisfier variable’ for any development intervention: “First (people) must be alive. If (they) don’t survive now, what achievement are we talking about?”

World Bank’s Hofman, for his part, says that the available evidence from other countries’ CCT programs is enough proof that “this type of program really meets what the Philippines wants for their social protection system.”

The question, he says, is “not so much about whether it is the right thing to do or not,” but about the “logistics of expanding the program in such a rapid manner.” Still, he is quick to add, initial evaluation reports commissioned by the World Bank last year have given it confidence that the program “would work.” (See Sidebar)

For all that, the government’s folly of putting the cart before the horse seems to be already showing. Even the evaluation reports cited by Hofman note problems in the program’s implementation among the mixed outcomes.

Done on selected pioneer CCT areas or those that were included in the very first phase of the program in 2008, the reports were aimed at further improving the program “as it is being implemented,” says Hofman. He also clarifies that they were “not a final evaluation or bottom line of the (program).”

Ateneo de Manila University’s Institute of Philippine Culture (IPC) and the Social Weather Stations (SWS) each conducted a study in early 2010 and came up with similar observations. This was even though IPC looked into the first 18 months of the CCT in six municipalities and three provinces from January to May 2010 while SWS concentrated on CCT areas in Northern Samar, one of the country’s poorest provinces, from January to March 2010.

Queries, glitches

Among IPC’s findings was that even after having been part of the program for a significant period of time, member households in general remained lacking in knowledge of the details of the various conditions they were supposed to meet. Some had even proceeded to create “additional” conditions, such as maintaining a backyard vegetable garden, avoiding gambling, and paying school fees in full.

Many queries from beneficiaries regarding various issues (ranging from the cash grants to updates in household composition) also often went unanswered by local and central government personnel alike, says the study.

But perhaps among the more basic glitches in the program found by IPC was the exclusion of several families more deserving of being CCT beneficiaries than those selected. In large part, this was because members of many excluded households were not in their homes, but most likely out working at the time of the survey to select the beneficiaries, the study says. Soliman herself says that such targeting errors affected beneficiaries who began receiving grants in 2008 and 2009.

Another possible factor that led to the exclusion of several deserving families was the absence of a targeting system at the time. DSWD’s targeting system was installed only in the first quarter of 2009.

The database containing the names of those considered eligible for the CCT will also be completed only this year – even as the program is being expanded at its fastest clip yet, and the DSWD is adding more beneficiary-families than ever before.

As well, the DSWD happens to be still in the process of completing its Supply-Side Assessment (SSA) in CCT areas. And yet there are already indications that many of the program’s beneficiaries may be receiving substandard education or would be hardpressed in finding medical personnel to help them fulfill the conditions enabling them to receive grants.

For instance, the DSWD has found that an overwhelming majority of elementary schools in CCT places are not meeting seven out of the nine quality benchmarks set by the Department of Education (DepEd). Majority of municipalities and cities with CCT programs are also not meeting all three benchmarks on health personnel set by the Department of Health (DOH).

Textbooks lack

So far, too, the DSWD has found a serious shortage of textbooks in all five core elementary subjects. The biggest shortfall is in science textbooks, with more than nine out of 10 municipalities/cities surveyed failing to meet DepEd’s standard of one textbook per pupil. Eight out of every 10 municipalities/cities also do not have adequate textbooks in English, Math, Filipino, and HEKASI. Only one out of every 10 municipalities, moreover, is able to provide DepEd’s standard of two deworming pills per student.

In general, CCT areas are faring well in only two education indicators: the teacher-to-pupil ratio and the classroom-to-student ratio. DSWD’s figures show that about nine in 10 CCT areas covered by the SSA so far have an adequate number of teachers and classrooms based on DepEd’s standard of one teacher per 45 students and one classroom per 45 students.  And yet it is highly possible that these healthy ratios were achieved only because in many areas with huge student populations, public schools conduct two to three shifts of classes for the same grade levels.

When it comes to health services, the SSA reveals that majority of CCT municipalities and cities surveyed are short of health personnel. Only three in every 10 CCT areas, in fact, have enough doctors (at least one doctor per 20,000 people). Only four in every 10 areas have an adequate number of nurses (at least one nurse for every 20,000 people) and midwives (at least one per 5,000 people).

Providing education and health facilities and services, though, is beyond DSWD’s mandate. Thus, says the agency, it created a technical working group composed of representatives from the DOH, DepEd, Department of Budget and Management (DBM), and the Department of the Interior and Local Government (DILG) in order to “find ways to address the identified gaps on supply side.” In addition, it says, its Regional Project Management Team “continuously engages the LGUs to address supply gaps.”

DepEd Undersecretary for Legal and Legislative Affairs Alberto Muyot says that the CCT areas are “more or less, consistent with (DepEd’s) 40 priority divisions…where (DepEd) will focus (its) resources.” These divisions are being prioritized, he explains, because these are the areas scoring low on achievement tests. 4Ps public relations officer Pamela Susara also says that DepEd has already earmarked a certain portion of its 2011 budget for additional classrooms, textbooks, and teachers in CCT areas.

The DOH has also partnered with local government units in implementing a project dubbed “Registered Nurses for Health Enhancement and Local Service” or “RN HEALS.” Under the project, 10,000 skilled nurses will be hired and deployed for one year to 1,221 rural “unserved or underserved communities.” The DOH will share the cost of providing the monthly cash allowances for these nurses with LGUs. But it will be LGUs that will “supervise, provide board and lodging, and ensure the safety and security of deployed nurses.”

More effort, resources

Still, the huge gaps in the delivery of the most basic health and education services point to the need for much more effort – as well as more resources. The SSA results even show that shortages afflict not only the poorest provinces, but also the more affluent areas.

One striking example is the National Capital Region (NCR), which is usually ranked among the country’s least poor areas. In all the four NCR districts covered during CCT’s phase two, a whopping eight out of every 10 elementary schools failed to meet DepEd’s pupil-to-classroom standard; almost nine in 10 did not meet the pupil-to-science textbook standard.

Less of a surprise is the case of Zamboanga del Norte, which is among the poorest provinces in the Philippines. Nearly every other resident there is considered income poor. In all that province’s 13 municipalities that were covered in the CCT’s first phase, not a single elementary school met DepEd’s textbook-to-pupil standard ratio. Neither did any municipality there meet the standard doctor-to-population ratio set by the DOH, according to DSWD’s SSA.

The SSA for health, meantime, revealed peculiar results. Among the regions covered in CCT’s phase two, for example, Region I ranked consistently the highest in terms of adequacy of health personnel (doctors, nurses, and midwives). And yet, not a single province there was able to administer enough vaccines for children below one year to meet the DOH standard.

By contrast, a 2009 World Bank policy research report says that in countries where CCT programs have been deemed successful, initiatives to improve access to, and coverage of, education and health services were implemented “in parallel with or as an integral part” of the CCT.

In Mexico, for example, the government’s efforts to improve educational services included rehabilitating 50,000 schools, giving grants to parent associations to pay for minor classroom maintenance and repairs, and constructing secondary schools.

In Bangladesh, government spending on education almost doubled as a proportion of social sector spending since the 1980s. Says the World Bank report: “This has allowed for a significant expansion in the capacity of the schooling system.”

The United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) has also warned against the phenomenon of “the tail wagging the dog.” FAO was referring to the tendency of some governments to treat the CCTs as a complete solution to the problem of inequities in human capital, “thus taking resources and/or attention away from essential investments in health and education which may be the only way to sustain the long term investment in human resources required to reduce poverty.”

But the Aquino government seems to have finally woken up to the reality of a yawning gap between demand and supply in the CCT and has been playing a furious game of catch-up. At DepEd, for instance, Muyot says the agency will “fast track the construction of classrooms” by “encouraging” investments from the private sector “either through outright grants, soft loans, or other forms.”

He also says that DepEd is entering into partnerships with local government units (LGUs) for the construction of school buildings. The LGU will manage the actual construction, Muyot says, while DepEd will monitor whether the LGU is able to comply with its quality standards. Construction costs would be shared by the LGU and DepEd.

Not to be outdone, the DOH is reportedly proposing health projects to the Public-Private Partnership (PPP) Center, an attached office of the National Economic and Development Authority (NEDA) tasked to coordinate and monitor PPP programs and projects. These include the modernization of public hospitals and the development of vaccines.

Just last May 13, too, Aquino signed Executive Order No. 43, which aims to rationalize the Cabinet into “clusters” according to the administration’s key priority areas.

The cluster that will take charge of Aquino’s anti-poverty efforts is dubbed the “Human Development and Poverty Reduction cluster” and will be composed of 14 government agencies. The DSWD secretary will lead the cluster as its chair, while the National Anti-Poverty Commission (NAPC) will serve as secretariat.

Cluster members are the chairpersons of the Housing and Urban Development Coordinating Council (HUDCC) and the Commission on Higher Education (CHED); and the secretaries of Education, Health, Agrarian Reform, Agriculture, Environment and National Resources, Labor and Employment, Interior and Local Government, Budget and Management, and NEDA.

It remains to be seen if all these moves would enable to solve the CCT’s supply-side problem. Obviously, though, CCT advocates here would rather look at the bright side. Hofman, for one, underscores the positive outcomes listed by the World Bank-commissioned studies, particularly better school attendance and health-seeking behavior, as well as a decline in the incidence of child labor.

Proclaiming these outcomes as “much better than expected,” Hofman says that the Philippines is rolling out the CCT “at par or even better than the mature programs in Latin American countries.”

But he also says, “Whether people in the end live a richer and happier life – that, of course, is a longer-term perspective.” – PCIJ, May 2011

The biggest of these “pantawid” initiatives, of course, is the Conditional Cash Transfer (CCT) or the Pantawid Pamilyang Pilipino Program (4Ps) that has been allotted P21 billion in the 2011 General Appropriations Act (GAA), and a substantial part of it funded with loans from the World Bank and the Asian Development Bank.

Three other programs are also listed under the 4Ps, each with its own hefty budget: the “Supplemental Feeding Program” (P2.88 billion), “Food for Work for Internally Displaced Persons” (P881 million), and “Rice Subsidy Program” (P4.23 billion). Altogether, these other subsidy programs are worth an additional P8 billion.

In the CCT and these other programs, the 2,500-strong Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD) has been designated lead agency, with other agencies as co-implementers or mere deputies. One can say that the DSWD suddenly has its plate full not just with too much work, but also too much money.

In fact, the P21 billion set aside for the CCT in the GAA this year is more than double the allocation that the DSWD received last year. It is also the largest cost item in the department’s budget, eating up 62 percent of the agency’s total allotment of P34.2 billion for 2011.

(To coincide with the recent observance of Labor Day, Aquino launched through Executive Order No. 32 the “Pantawid Pasada” or Public Transport Assistance Program. Under it, a targeted total of 214,596 jeepney and tricycle drivers and operators received “smart cards” pre-loaded with up to P1,050, or roughly a fuel assistance of P35 a day for one whole month. The program’s launch, which had energy department officials handing out cards to drivers who had queued for hours, cost taxpayers at least P225.32 million, net of administrative expenses. The implementing rules for EO No. 32 say that Pantawid Pasada has an initial allocation of P450 million.)

To be sure, cash grants to targeted beneficiaries have been acknowledged as better and less-costly safety net measures, in contrast to price subsidies that tend to benefit even the rich. It is not clear, however, how these cash-outs supplement each other, or what outcomes they are designed to yield, under the Philippine Development Plan for 2011-2016 that the government fully disclosed only last week.

It’s also unclear how a small executive agency like the DSWD will be able to implement these programs efficiently, without sacrificing its regular tasks under its “social welfare arm” – providing assistance to victims of abuse and exploitation, and relief assistance in times of disasters. DSWD Secretary Corazon ‘Dinky’ Soliman herself says these tasks should go hand-in-hand with the agency’s “development arm” that includes implementing the CCT.

At the very least, the DSWD likes to say that the pantawid programs complement its work. It also bristles at any suggestion that the programs involve dole-outs. Thus, the Rice Subsidy Program is also called “Rice for Work.” It aims to augment the incomes of about two million small-scale farmers and fishers nationwide during lean months following the harvest season. The DSWD says it is equivalent to their wages for 14 days’ work in a month.

Like the beneficiaries for the CCT, the farmers and fisherfolk who will benefit from the Rice for Work program will be selected through the National Household Targeting System for Poverty Reduction (NHTS-PR). Supposedly, the distribution of rice subsidies had already begun last May 15.

The CCT’s P21 billion, meanwhile, is meant for distribution among 2.3 million poor households by year end. It’s an ambitious undertaking that poses a huge administrative challenge for DSWD to implement. Accordingly, it will also extract a substantial cost, as a closer scrutiny of Republic Act No. 10147 or the GAA for Fiscal Year 2011 reveals.

In other words, not every centavo of that P21 billion will go to poor families. Also eating up a hefty portion of the budget are amounts earmarked for activities related to disbursing those cash grants and for keeping the entire undertaking up and running. The budget for these operational, administrative, and capital outlay altogether amounts to about P4 billion, or a fifth of the total CCT budget.

Translated, that means that for every P100 that the government will be spending for the CCT this year, P80 will go directly to poor families as “cash grants,” while the remaining P20 will be spent in the course of bringing that money to them. And that’s not even counting the P100-million budget for selecting the recipients of cash transfers through the NHTS-PR.

A Cabinet secretary said the huge administrative cost of the CCT that is being implemented “top-down” is an attempt by the Aquino government to plug “leakages to corruption,” which marred many pro-poor projects in the past that were implemented “bottom-up” or with local government agencies as coordinators.

It’s an overhead cost that seems really huge. But the DSWD sees it as a necessary investment that would help ensure that the program would be free of leakages and shielded from political influence.

That goal, coupled with the magnitude of the undertaking, prompted DSWD to hire thousands of personnel, albeit on a contractual basis. Most of these personnel – called municipal links (MLs) and city links (CLs) – are social workers, but they are not to be confused with municipal social welfare and development officers (MSWDOs) who are employed by the local government unit (LGU). So while the MSWDOs report to the mayor, the MLs and CLs report to DSWD’s regional offices.

The agency has offices in the 16 administrative regions of the country, excluding the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao, but does not have units from the provincial level down. All local social welfare and development offices are under the supervision of governors and mayors.

Under the CCT, the DSWD is now scheduled to hire 2,300 contractual ground monitors – the MLs and the CLs – fattening its staff complement twice over.

Among the tasks of the CL/MLs are to coordinate with beneficiaries regarding cash-grant transmittals, as well as with municipal social workers on the conduct of family development sessions. The CL/MLs also monitor compliance of the beneficiaries to the CCT’s conditions and serve as the first line of grievance redress.

To make sure that each ML or CL will be able to closely monitor each CCT family, each is assigned 1,000 beneficiaries. There are about 2,000 CL/MLs under the DSWD’s employ at present, but by the end of the year, that figure is expected to reach 2,300. By then, the department expects to have 2.3 million CCT beneficiary-families.

That also means the DSWD will be spending P34.5 million a month or about P414 million annually just for the salaries of the CL/MLs, each of whom gets P15,000 a month.

But the GAA lists even a bigger amount under “Salaries and Allowances” for the CCT since there are other DSWD personnel (newly hired and otherwise) who are also involved in the program. According to Soliman, such involvement would make the program “integrated within the agency rather than (have) a separate foreign-assisted program unit…that will end when there is no more funding.”

But it’s actually “trainings” (sic), not salaries, which are the second largest cost item in the CCT budget. For this year, the “trainings” allocation is P1.6 billion, or monthly expenses for the item of P135 million or P4.45 million per day. The DSWD argues, though, that this would ensure that the CL/MLs and DSWD staff would be able to do all the tasks assigned them for CCT.

There are mechanisms for monitoring DSWD’s performance and accountability for the program. For instance, a GAA special provision specifically requires DSWD to “submit to the DBM, the House Committee on Appropriations and Senate Committee on Finance separate quarterly reports on the disbursements made for the Program or post on its official website, at least on a quarterly basis, the beneficiaries identified under the NHTS-PR National, utilization of amounts, status of implementation, program evaluation and/or assessment reports.”

The DSWD has transmitted its first-quarter report on the CCT, according to a staffer of Sen. Franklin M. Drilon, chair of the Senate Committee on Finance. The report was dated April 18, 2011, or two weeks after the close of the first quarter. No copies of the report, however, have been disclosed as of this writing.

With such a big increase in the CCT budget, President Aquino himself found it prudent to have yet another mechanism for monitoring the program. Inserted in the special provisions is the president’s veto: “The Oversight Committees on Public Expenditures herein created in the Senate and House of Representatives shall strictly monitor the effective implementation of the (CCT) Program.” – PCIJ, May 2011

CCT HOPEFULS. Residents of a barangay in Metro Manila search for their names on the latest shortlist of beneficiaries of the Conditional Cash Transfer (CCT) Program posted by the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD). Photo by Che de los Reyes.

SHE HAD neither bought a lotto ticket nor joined a TV game show. But Marissa felt like she won the jackpot anyway late last year, when her family was chosen as one of the recipients of the government’s Conditional Cash Transfer (CCT) Program.

After all, it meant her family would be receiving P800 a month, and while that has since proved inadequate to sustain her brood of four, whatever cash she can lay her hands on is welcome, especially now that her husband, a returnee from suddenly protest-prone Saudi Arabia, has been jobless for the last two months.

Since 2007, some 1.4 million poor households have been selected to receive regular cash grants from the government under the CCT. By the end of this year, the government wants to increase the figure to 2.3 million families.

In the next five years, the government will be enrolling even more families in the CCT; by the time President Benigno Simeon ‘Noynoy’ C. Aquino III’s term ends in 2016, up to 4.6 million poor families would have been covered by the program.

That is the promise of the Aquino government, according to Social Welfare and Development Secretary Corazon ‘Dinky’ Soliman, the CCT’s national program director. But the Philippine Development Plan for 2011 to 2016 – that the government finally released last May 26 – puts the total CCT target-beneficiaries at only 4.3 million by 2016, or 300,000 fewer families.

Also called the Pantawid Pamilyang Pilipino Program (4Ps), the CCT is called “the cornerstone of the government’s strategy to fight poverty and attain” the Millennium Development Goals that the Philippines has pledged to achieve by 2015.

Put simply, the CCT – actually a continuation of a program initiated by Aquino’s immediate predecessor, Gloria Macapagal Arroyo – is expected to provide a safety net that will keep impoverished Filipinos from sliding to deeper penury.

Now described as “the world’s favorite new anti-poverty device,” CCTs have been differently funded and implemented in virtually all the countries of Latin America and some in Asia and other continents since 1995.

Development scholars and analysts have largely affirmed the good if short-term outcomes that CCTs could trigger such as better school-enrollment ratios and improved health status of the children of CCT beneficiary families.

At the same time, however, they have also expressed concern over the long-term impact and benefits of costly CCT programs, especially if these are not complemented by real, massive spending to ramp up the quantity and quality of education and health services, as well as job-generation and livelihood-training programs for the poor, adult population. Moreover, they warn that sustainability could become a serious problem once the funds run out and there is no all-sided strategy against poverty in place.

In fact, such concerns have made other countries proceed with caution with their CCTs. In Latin America where CCTs first took root, governments first rolled out the program on the local level, or in some pilot areas, before going full blast with a national rollout.

But this is apparently not the case in the Philippines, where a premature expansion of the scope of the CCT, as well as the rush in the implementation of the program, may jeopardize what many still consider as a promising “flagship program” in the Aquino administration’s double-barreled drive against poverty and corruption.

Worrisome findings

Indeed, by all indications, the CCT has served as a public-relations handle of the Aquino government’s epic battle versus poverty. But it is one built on the flawed spin or fallacy that it is a program for all the poor in the Philippines.

Six months of the PCIJ’s research and review of relevant documents, and interviews with relevant sources on the CCT reveal it to be a focused, time-bound initiative only for poor Filipino families who would pass the computer-generated targeting of beneficiaries under a “proxy means test,” and then would have to comply with strict program conditionalities. Under these terms, the poorest of the poor, notably the “food poor” and the most destitute that walk the streets and do not belong to typical “family” units, are not the targets of the CCT.

The decision to expand and accelerate the program was also made without adequate due diligence in assessing supply-side, implementation, and program delivery requirements. The program’s target beneficiaries have been increased seven-fold from 2008 to this year even without a full assessment of the availability, quantity, and quality of education and health services in all CCT areas, or even before a comprehensive evaluation of the program’s first phase under the Arroyo administration could be made.

The CCT has been paraded in multiple road-show activities even before the formal launch of the Philippine Development Plan or PDP for 2011 to 2016 that should serve as the administration’s governance and growth framework. The odd sequence of events has yielded a disparity in the number of CCT target-beneficiaries. Soliman, the President and other senior officials have boasted that the CCT would benefit 4.6 million households by 2016; the PDP says it would only be 4.3 million.

Soliman’s number is pegged on the 2006 Official Poverty Statistics. The National Statistical Coordination Board (NSCB) has finished the 2009 Official Poverty Statistics, which counts a different number of poor households, but the DSWD’s targeting of CCT households is stuck on the 2006 version.

Across the Philippines, the NSCB said there were 3,670,791 poor families by 2006, and 3,855,730 by 2009.

For sure, the program’s expansion and accelerated implementation will not come cheap. It involves mainly the giving of cash of up to a maximum of P1,400 each to 4.6 million families. A significant portion of those funds (whose total runs up to tens of billions of pesos) are coming from loans from the World Bank and the Asian Development Bank (ADB) in the next five years, raising the question of whether or not the government can sustain the program beyond 2016.

Billions of pesos have also been allotted for personnel and administrative systems to monitor the beneficiaries’ compliance (demand side) with CCT conditions, even as there remains no vigorous parallel monitoring of how national and local government agencies will comply with their obligations to deliver on education and health services (supply side) that the CCT promises.

Meantime, the designated lead agency for the CCT, the Department of Social Welfare ad Development (DSWD), is now under intense pressure to accomplish its tasks related to the program, along with its regular duties. To cope with the rushed and expanded implementation of the program, DSWD is hiring, training, and deploying some 2,300 ground monitors (called ‘municipal links’ and ‘city links’ in project documents) at frenetic speed. As budgeted in its 2011 agency appropriation, the DSWD could actually spend up to P4 million on CCT-related “training” activities alone, every day.

This is even as the targeting and enrollment of additional beneficiaries are proceeding just as quickly. On its website, the DSWD has posted a two-slide power-point report saying that as of last March 11, it had already disbursed P744.7 million of cash grants. It said it expects to ramp up its cash grants disbursement to P2.68 billion by March 31, 2011, or by a phenomenal P1.9 billion in just 20 days.

The DSWD has yet to complete its Supply-Side Assessment (SSA) in 320 of the 729 cities and municipalities that have been listed as  “CCT areas” by November 2010, but already the results are way too tragic. Of the 409 CCT towns and cities audited, an overwhelming majority are not meeting seven of the nine quantity benchmarks for education, and all three benchmarks for health personnel ratios to population.

On the ground, though, the picture has become quite complicated. Under the General Appropriations Act of 2011, the CCT funds must be directly deposited to government depository banks, and directly accessed by the beneficiaries. “No DSWD employee/officer, CCT secretariat and local government official shall directly handle funds intended for cash grant,” the law says. But because the Land Bank of the Philippines, the CCT fund depository bank, has no branches in many CCT areas, the DSWD has lately enrolled pawnshops and mobile cash-transfer outlets to serve as distribution centers of the cash grants.

Unsurprisingly, even beneficiaries are now raising queries about the program, with some expressing doubt that they would be able to comply with the conditions that come with the CCT grants. Others are pointing to unexplained bulk disbursements that have been followed by delayed payouts as signs that the system is still far from being efficient.

Thousands of poor families are also wondering why they were left out and if there is a chance for them to be included in the program in the future.

Instructions on how those on the shortlist can have themselves validated by DSWD personnel so that they could be official CCT beneficiaries.

Surprised client

Marissa herself was surprised when her family was among more than 900 selected for the CCT in her community in Metro Manila. When the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD) conducted its survey to help it pick CCT beneficiaries last year, Marissa’s husband was still working as a cook abroad and earning the equivalent of P15,000 a month. In Marissa’s community – a former dumpsite that is now populated by street hawkers, manual laborers, and factory workers, along with hordes of the unemployed – that was, and is still, considered a princely sum. (All of the people PCIJ interviewed in that community, Marissa included, asked that their real names not be used for this story.)

By the government’s own definition, Marissa’s family was not poor at the time of the survey. To be considered poor, a family with six members residing in Metro Manila should be earning a monthly income below P9,901 in 2009. This is the so-called ‘poverty threshold,’ which the NSCB defines as “the minimum income required for a family to meet the basic food and non-food requirements.”

State researchers say that minimum income will enable a family to feed all its six members three nutritionally adequate meals and one snack (for a total of 2,000 calories a day, on average) and pay for basic necessities such as clothes and footwear; housing; fuel, light and water; medical care; education; and transportation and communication, among others.

Income-poor families, says the NSCB, now number 3.86 million – or about two in every10 families. There are also about 1.45 million families who are “food poor,” or those not earning enough to eat three nutritionally adequate meals a day. According to the NSCB, a family of five in Metro Manila would need at least P5,763 monthly to be able to have such daily meals.

By dint of hard work, Lorie, a widowed mother of four, has made it possible for her family’s income to make it to that NSCB benchmark. Yet her family obviously still falls under the income-poor category, and can be considered ‘chronic poor’ – which is why Lorie can’t understand why she was overlooked by the CCT.

In what sounds like a reference to “unlikely” beneficiaries like Marissa’s family, Lorie, a resident of the same shanty community that Marissa calls home, wonders aloud: “It’s puzzling. There are those whose husbands are working abroad, whose houses are made of concrete – why were they included in the 4Ps and I wasn’t?”

Lorie depends on her dead husband’s social security pension of P4,200 a month, which she tries to augment in whatever way she can. For instance, she operates a sari-sari store that earns her about P100 a day. She also washes pots for a neighbor’s food stall, for which she gets P70 a day. But even then, she often finds herself short of cash, and she would be unable to keep her store running if she were to lose her line of credit from small-time lenders in the community.

Lorie says she was told the selection had been done “by a computer.” But the process is actually far more complicated than that. Dubbed as the “National Household Targeting System for Poverty Reduction (NHTS-PR)” and launched in 2009, the system for selecting CCT beneficiaries was designed supposedly to prevent cash benefits from leaking to the non-poor.

‘Proxy means test’

First, DSWD hired 21,892 workers, including enumerators who would conduct house-to-house interviews across the country. But instead of asking households directly about their income and expenditure, DSWD used a ‘proxy means test’ wherein 34 questions were asked to gather information about a household’s socioeconomic condition, such as the family members’ education, their tenure status, house construction material, appliances and furniture, and whether a member is working abroad, among others.

DSWD prioritized the 20 poorest provinces and municipalities. In other areas, the agency focused on “pockets of poverty” or areas where clusters of poor households reside, such as in Marissa and Lorie’s community.

A computer model calculated the approximate income per capita of the household and ranked them in reference to the poverty threshold of the province or the district in the National Capital Region (NCR). To qualify for the CCT, a family’s economic condition must be equal to or below that threshold.

Yet DSWD’s Soliman herself admits that the system isn’t foolproof. That’s why, she says, the DSWD has been correcting the errors made by enumerators – whether done inadvertently or on purpose – through a grievance system whereby people could contact DSWD through text or email. But for the likes of Lorie, an easier option would be ‘on-demand application’ whereby one could go to designated areas in the municipality and have oneself included in DSWD’s database.

In both options, DSWD will validate the family’s eligibility. As of last March 10, a total of 43,000 families have been delisted from the program while 80,000 have been added, according to Soliman.

That, however, brings little consolation for Lorie, who already joined the on-demand application twice but still failed to make it to the list.

Being part of a poor municipality and on or below the provincial poverty threshold are not the only criteria to qualify for consideration for the CCT, though. The poor household must also have one or more children below 15 years and/or a pregnant woman at the time of the DSWD’s assessment.

Strings attached

Once selected, a CCT household would get P500 a month at least. There is also a P300-monthly education grant for every child aged three to 14 in that household; this would be given 10 months in the year for up to three children per family. Each CCT family can be part of the program for a maximum of five years.

For the poorest families, sending a child to school often means foregoing a meal or two for the rest of the family members, says Soliman.

With the CCT cash, these families in theory would now be able to send their children to school and leave their budget for food intact.

But it’s money with strings attached. Beneficiaries need to comply with conditions that include pre- and post-natal care for those who are pregnant, preventive health check-ups for children zero to five years old, and 85-percent school attendance by children three to 14 years old.

In addition, parents must attend family development sessions every month in an area designated in coordination with the local government. These include responsible parenthood sessions, mothers’ classes, and parent-effectiveness seminars.

Compliance check

The DSWD says these conditions are necessary to “encourage parents to invest in their children’s (and their own) human capital through investments in their health and nutrition, education, and participation in community activities.” The program’s proponents also say this is what essentially differentiates CCT from a dole out.

DSWD monitors compliance by having school and municipal health personnel record school attendance and health check-ups. Compliance reports are timed with the cash releases that take place every two months. A family that fails thrice to comply with the conditions is suspended from the program. After the fourth offense, the errant family can be dropped completely from the program.

“It’s also possible,” says 4Ps public relations officer Pamela Caperiña-Susara, “that the child or whoever did not comply would be the only one dropped from the program, not the entire family.”

But such conditions seem to have been thrown out the window in Marissa’s community last November, the same month they were enrolled as CCT beneficiaries. They were expecting to be given two months (November-December) worth of grants as their first payout, but instead they received money for the 12 months of 2010, including for the 10 months when they were not yet CCT beneficiaries. Each of the families received a lump sum, which sent many of them on a tailspin.

For instance, however hard Marissa and her neighbors tried to crunch the numbers, they couldn’t figure out exactly how much each of them was supposed to receive.

According to DSWD, a family who has three qualified children should receive P15,000 in a year.

In Marissa’s community, however, some families with three children reportedly received less than that amount, while others received P15,000 despite having less than three children.

Since it was nearly Christmas, most of the parents who received lump sums used the money to buy clothes and shoes for their children. Some mothers also used the money to buy milk and vitamins. Marissa observes, however, that this was probably because they thought they were going to be monitored right away.

Not so responsible

In fact, other parents were less than responsible with that first cash grant. Some of them were even caught gambling by the city link – the DSWD personnel assigned to assist beneficiaries – who then confiscated their ATM cards, which gave them access to their special CCT accounts at the Land Bank.

Sought for explanation by PCIJ, DSWD even admits that the lump-sum disbursements were not isolated to Marissa’s community. It says its personnel had to temporarily stop certain CCT-related activities across the country while the May 10, 2010 elections ban was in force. This particularly affected the registration and validation of beneficiaries and the transmittal of cash grants during that period.

DSWD was able to resume CCT activities only in the third quarter of 2010. To compensate for the delay, the department disbursed several months worth of cash grants; in some cases, these reached a year’s worth.

Meanwhile, DSWD says inaccuracies in the information given and/or entered in the assessment forms during the selection survey could explain the discrepancies in the amounts that the beneficiaries received. These could include incorrect numbers and ages of children that the household declared, it says.

The irony is that since receiving that sudden bonanza, Marissa and the other CCT beneficiaries in her community have not gotten a centavo of their bi-monthly grants for this year, and no one knows why. As far as they know, they repeat, every CCT family there received lump sums for 2010 and nothing else since. Not surprisingly, the situation has not only led them to scratch their heads, but also to cast a wary eye on the program.

Erratic release

Perhaps because the payout release now appears erratic to her, Marissa says the CCT may not really help keep poor children in school. At the very least, the experience has reminded her that CCT beneficiaries like her shouldn’t rely on the program too much.

“Like they say, it’s just for tiding you over,” she remarks. “But…you have to wait another two months.”

Then again, the grant amount her family was supposed to receive already had Marissa worried that her family would not be able to comply with the condition regarding education.

Only the youngest of her four children is under the age of 14. Marissa says the monthly P300 from the CCT that is supposed to help that child keep on attending class may not be enough. It translates to a subsidy of P15 a day for the child, who may have a maximum number of only three absences a month to keep on being a CCT beneficiary.

By Marissa’s computation, each child needs at least P20 a day for baon, exclusive of any transportation expense. And even that amount is hardly enough for a nutritious meal. Of course there’s still the P500 that each CCT family gets per month as a health subsidy, but Marissa says her household’s daily food expenses run to P300.

They’re already on a strict budget, since neither she nor her husband is employed at the moment. They’re surviving because after her husband lost his job overseas, Marissa pawned the rights to their house. Part of the proceeds was allocated for her husband’s job-hunting expenses; the rest has been paying the family’s daily expenses. Once that runs out, all that would be left for them to rely on would be the CCT money.

“For poor people like us, it’s really difficult,” says Marissa. “For instance, if a child doesn’t have pocket money, he’ll really miss class.”

“They’re saying, ‘Why will the child miss school when you’re already receiving cash?’” she adds. “But is the amount really sufficient?”

Big transpo cost

In rural communities especially, poor families often reside in the remotest barangays. Isabelita Escobilla, who hails from a mountain barangay in the Bondoc Peninsula, says that one-way motorcycle fare from their place to the town proper, where the public school is located, costs between P30 to P50.

Health centers are usually in the town proper as well, and these are supposed to be visited by CCT beneficiaries at least once a month. That means they will have to earmark part of their P500 monthly health subsidy for transportation.

Myrna, yet another CCT beneficiary from Marissa’s community, also says that P500 cannot cover the medical expenses of her youngest son, who has chronic asthma and now has primary complex.

On the upside, she says that she can use it to buy the vitamins that her son needs. But what she is really thankful for is the membership in Philhealth’s indigent program that came with her family’s being selected for the CCT. Because of Philhealth, Myrna says that she no longer has to resort to raiding her family’s meager funds whenever her son needs medical care.

Still, all nine CCT beneficiaries and non-beneficiaries that the PCIJ interviewed say the government could help them more effectively if it would provide them with a means of livelihood or a job.

Such a program would also be more sustainable in the long run, they say. Too, people would use their money more judiciously. “Kasi pinaghirapan, eh (Because we had to work hard for it),” says Michelle, an 18-year-old mother of two who was not selected for the CCT.

According to DSWD Secretary Soliman, her agency is linking the CCT with programs that provide micro-credit and guaranteed employment to beneficiaries. Socioeconomic Planning Secretary Cayetano W. Paderanga Jr. himself says that “to be able to reduce poverty, you must generate employment.” – PCIJ, May 2011

THE Judicial and Bar Council (JBC) was purposely created by the 1987 Constitution to depoliticize and to open up to the citizens the screening of nominees and appointments to the judiciary.

To achieve this, Associate Professor Dante B. Gatmaytan of the University of the Philippines College of Law says the JBC should have looked with favor at full transparency – in the conduct of its processes and in the handling of all its records – as both premise and armor of its grave mandate.

Created by the 1987 Constitution, the JBC is 24 years old but still, it seems to be taking only baby steps. Its transparency and access to information practices continue to swing from close to open, then close again, regimes.

In recent years, buffeted by demand from civil society groups that have zealously monitored its work, the JBC has opened up its processes and records somehow. Yet soon after the demand has died down, and the citizens have stopped looking and asking, it reverted to just token disclosure of the details of its work.

On July 23, 2010, in a letter to the Supreme Court Appointments Watch (SCAW), a network of alternative law and transparency groups, the JBC disclosed “excerpts of the minutes” of its en banc meeting that offered data on which JBC members voted for which nominees to a vacancy in the Supreme Court then.

The letter signed by JBC executive officer Annaliza S. Ty-Capacite, said that the JBC “also agreed to your (SCAW’s) proposal to have the voting records posted (on) the JBC website, but only after the approval by the Council of the minutes containing the said record.”

Months later, the JBC would hold new rounds of screening for nominees to three vacancies in the Court of Appeals, and another in the Sandiganbayan.

By yearend, as it had assured SCAW, the JBC posted on its website (http://jbc.judiciary.gov.ph/) “result of voting” reports that disclosed only the tally of votes that the nominees got. Curiously missing were the more instructive details that SCAW had wanted and which the JBC had promised to share – which JBC members voted for which nominees.

Transparency test

UP law professor Gatmaytan sees transparency as a major test of how judicious the JBC conducts itself vis-à-vis its constitutional duty to allow the citizens front-row seat to the screening of candidates to plum posts in the judiciary.

Gatmaytan had recently co-authored with wife and Northeastern University graduate student Cielo Magno a seminal study titled “Averting Diversity: A Review of Nominations and Appointments to the Philippine Supreme Court (1988-2008)” that was published in the Asian Journal of Comparative Law.

He says: “The JBC was created in response to the politicized selection of justices. Under Martial Law, there was no check on the president’s power to appoint and it was said that most of his appointees did not satisfy the minimum requirements. They were mostly classmates of fraternity brods, and there was no intervention on the part of the public.”

Lawyer Nepomuceno A. Malaluan of the Right to Know, Right Now! Coalition of 160 groups and individuals pushing the passage of the Freedom of Information bill, could not agree more.

Transparency, he says, is the only effective check on the tenuous “balance of power” among the three branches of government that are all represented in the JBC.

“One way to remedy the imbalance is to let sunshine into the JBC to facilitate greater public scrutiny of its performance,” Malaluan says. To achieve this, the JBC “must be committed to providing the largest measure of transparency and public access to its processes and to the documents under its custody, both pertaining to the applicants and to the JBC actions.”

By its own rules, the JBC screening process starts with an open call for applications and recommendations (and submission of the nominees’ personal data sheets or PDS and other documents), publication of the list of nominees, public interviews with the nominees, executive or closed-door sessions of the JBC members, and finally, a public statement on the summary of votes that the shortlisted nominees obtained from the eight-person JBC.

As soon as the JBC has submitted its shortlisted nominees – at least three for every vacancy – the President may choose his appointees to the court within 90 days.

Not quite open

At critical points in the process, however, the JBC seems to be swinging from open to close regimes of conduct. It holds public interviews with the nominees but bans the recording and broadcast of the proceedings by the news media. It reveals some data about the nominees but routinely rebuffs requests of citizens’ groups for copies of many other documents that reveal more details about the nominees.

The JBC keeps under virtual lock and key those that reveal more than just the educational background and work history of the nominees, the details of their business, financial, and political connections.

Apart from the PDS, under the JBC’s rules the nominees and applicants must submit sundry documents – income tax return for the last two years; current year’s clearances from the National Bureau of Investigation, Ombudsman, police, place of residence, Integrated Bar of the Philippines (IBP), Office of the Bar Confidant, and employer; certificate of good standing or latest official receipt from the IBP national treasurer; affidavit that the applicant was not a candidate in the immediately preceding election; proofs of age and Filipino citizenship; results of medical examination and sworn medical certificates; and statements of assets, liabilities, and net worth (SALN) for the past two years.

“Those who fail to comply with the requirements shall not be considered for interview nor considered for nomination,” the JBC has advised.

Tricky matter

The last document in the list, the SALN, is assuredly a tricky matter for the JBC to decide, especially for those nominees coming from the judiciary. Jurists made up nearly six of every 10 applicants that the JBC had screened from 1988 to 2008, according to Gatmaytan’s study.

But since 2006, the Supreme Court has enforced a policy restricting access to the SALNs of all justices, judges, and down to the lowest ranked personnel of the judiciary. This policy, the high court had explained in a “Media Backgrounder” paper, seeks to spare and protect the members of the bench from possible harm and blackmail that could come from irate litigants.

Thus, it would seem like wishing for the JBC to disclose the SALNs of the nominees to the judiciary from the judiciary is whistling in the dark. The JBC and the Supreme Court share just one chair and presiding officer – the chief justice. In addition, two of the seven other JBC members are retired justices.

Apart from the SALNs, citizens’ groups have sought copies of the other documents that the nominees have submitted to the JBC. Invariably, their requests have been met with token action, indifference or outright denial.

Gatmaytan knows as much. For his and his wife’s study on the work of the JBC in its first 20 years of existence, he had tried but failed to unlock doors to JBC documents. “The JBC was created to depoliticize and open up the selection of justices but it is even more secretive now,” he tells PCIJ in an interview. “(As) others have explained,” he writes in his study, “the likelihood of obtaining documents from the JBC is ‘practically nil’ as requests for data are repeatedly turned down.”

More than just accessing documents, he stresses a need for the JBC to respect the public’s right to know. “It goes back to the question of how much we know about the nominees, from the beginning… and it’s clear they got in not because they are relatives or friends but because of objective standards”

The worrisome cases, he adds, are when the public is not informed “if the nominees are related to the members of the JBC,” or could face “potential conflict of interest situations,” especially for those coming from the private sector, or have been remiss in filing asset disclosure statements, especially for those coming from the public sector.

A better informed public, Gatmaytan says, may appreciate the work of the JBC more. “If the process is clear and open to the public, the selection system becomes more legitimate to the public, and the results more acceptable to the public.”

Must know more

In contrast, resorting to secrecy is a path to confusion and failure. He says: “If we keep everything secret, which is how the JBC seems to view its work from the very beginning, keep the public out of it and have nobody involved… it erodes our confidence in the selection process and creates more problems.”

In Gatmaytan’s mind, the JBC should uphold the public’s right to know more about those who would later sit as judge over their lives, rights, and welfare. “We can find out more about the nominees if we are allowed access to their background and more data other than their age, present job, or from which law school they graduated, which are already reported in the news.”

Knowing more about those who would be jurists or Ombudsman is a first step, he says, for citizens “to be more concerned about the quality and diversity” of the courts.

To be sure, Gatmaytan affirms that the JBC’s public interviews afford the citizens a chance to see and listen to the nominees. But these forums also have become no different from the sneak previews or trailers that are shown in movie theaters, with the citizens allowed only to watch in silence.

This is because during the interviews, only the eight JBC members can ask questions. And while the proceedings are documented in writing, cameras and tape recorders are banned, and live TV and radio coverage disallowed.

And although the interviews are open to the public, Gatmaytan says those who have attended the events have raised some observations: the questions are not probing enough, and the interviews seem to be rushed, especially when the JBC has to deal with so many nominees racing after the same plum positions.

Two selection proceedings have been launched of late by the JBC – for nominees to two vacancies in the Supreme Court, and for the position of Ombudsman. Already 28 persons have applied or been recommended to the high court positions, and 32 others, to the Ombudsman’s job.

Once the public interviews are done, public access to the JBC virtually ends as the members repair back to executive sessions. They are furnished the “reports of the interview” that the JBC secretary is instructed to keep secret. “The reports are hereby declared strictly confidential documents which shall be available only to the Members of the Council,” states the JBC’s rules.

Off-limits, secret

With the confidential reports on hand, the JBC members then meet behind closed doors to “draw up” their short list of nominees. They vote using numbered ballots, and the results are tallied by the JBC secretary.

This most critical phase of the JBC’s work remains sub rosa or secret and off-limits to the citizens. Afterwards, the JBC issues a public statement on the “result of voting” for the nominees, sharing only what they like to share with the public.

In July 2010, they disclosed who they voted for; in November 2010, they revealed only the tally of votes that the nominees got.

Rep. Niel Tupas, Jr. of Iloilo, who sits in the JBC as chairman of the House of Representatives’ committee on justice, says that he had been told that the JBC has been disclosing how its members voted. This was decided, he adds, on motion of the late Jay Castro, until his recent death the JBC representative of the Integrated Bar of the Philippines or IBP.

Gatmaytan says that it would do the JBC well if it observes full transparency and disclose how its members voted so the citizens may know why some nominees had been shortlisted and others not. Tupas says he agrees absolutely, adding that he will try to do what he can to open up the JBC process some more.

More reforms

To vote openly and to disclose their vote. At the very least, this is what the JBC members owe the citizens, according to lawyer Malaluan. “The process of appointing justices and judges is critical to the independence and competence of the judiciary. The same is true for the appointment of the Ombudsman.”

But Malaluan says there’s a lot more that the citizens deserve from the JBC. During the nine-year rule of Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, he cites that SCAW and the Bantay Korte Suprema – which drew law schools and media agencies as partners – have mounted vigorous scrutiny of the JBC. The result: numerous proposed reforms for the JBC to do better by the citizens.

These included, Malaluan says, stopping the practice of reappointing regular members

of the council, limiting to three the number of nominees for each vacant position (as required in the Constitution); implementing a more transparent evaluation system; adopting an open voting policy; and rejecting lists of JBC nominees returned by the President without appointment.

Apart from these reforms, however, the monitors of the JBC’s work point to even bigger concerns that are more difficult to settle as quickly. They lament the seemingly qualitative flaws, undefined standards of “the principles of integrity, excellence and competence” against which the JBC members must measure the nominees, or even the backroom wheeling-dealing that sometimes still mar the vote for or against certain nominees.

More research

Leslie Flores of the Transparency and Accountability Network (TAN) that is coordinating the SCAW initiative observes that the JBC seems to lack the people and skills to do “thorough research” into the background of the nominees. The result is a JBC that tends to go easy on job applicants to the judiciary.

In her September 2009 article titled “Lessons from US Supreme Court Appointments: A Quick Look at Justice Sotomayor’s Experience,” Flores compares that when U.S. President Barack Obama nominated Sonia Sotomayor to sit as the first Hispanic and third woman justice of the 200-year-old U.S. Federal Supreme Court, her public and private backgrounds were fully unearthed by officials from the White House, the U.S. Justice department, as well as the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This rigorous pre-screening scrutiny of the nominees does not happen in the JBC, she avers.

Instead, in the JBC’s public interviews, Flores says all the nominees are asked mostly “standard” questions such as their “reason(s) for applying as Supreme Court Justice, their concept of justice, judicial philosophy, their view on the expanded jurisdiction of the Supreme Court… (their) most important contribution to the Supreme Court… how the JBC can improve its processes.”

Indeed, specific questions have been raised, including “Charter Change, Executive Privilege, death penalty, and other current issues.” The candidates have also been asked about their “achievements, expertise… significant cases they have handled…their judicial performance.”

Apart from unraveling the hopes, the wishes, and the self-image of the nominees, however, these questions do not reveal as much background and critical data that may later trigger real or potential conflicts of interest, or offer more insight into the character of the nominees.

Opaque standards

Malaluan sees another gap in the JBC’s work: the standards or measure of why JBC members vote for or against the nominees. “One of the most crucial demands is opening up the evaluation system of the JBC… clearer and standard evaluation system for opaque qualifications such as competence.”

Then, too, he says, the “balance of power” in the JBC that draw representatives from all three branches of government bears constant monitoring. “Through the JBC, the President’s choice is restricted to the list of nominees prepared by the JBC,” Malaluan says. Yet how, indeed, could one branch be stopped from dominating the two others so the integrity and independence of the JBC may be preserved?

There is need, according to Malaluan, for all sorts of “checks” that to prevent this, even as “the balance of power over the composition of the council has tilted in favor of the President” who appoints the four regular members, as well as the Justice secretary.

By sheer tyranny of numbers, too, the pro-administration ruling party or coalition in the Senate and in the House of Representatives, get to appoint the chairs of their committees on justice – who in turn get to sit in the JBC. Too often, these committee chairs would be party allies of the president, too.

The unhappy result, Malaluan says, is some nominees have resorted to pulling strings with some politicians. “With the balance of power in the JBC tilting in favor of the President, applicants for vacant positions in the judiciary and the Ombudsman vie for the endorsement of influential politicians, with those close to the President enjoying a premium.”

Ironically, the JBC has crafted for itself a lofty vision. Its marker at the Supreme Court’s Centennial Building proclaims that it wishes to become “a JBC that is independent, efficient and a proactive sentinel of judicial service, guided only by the principles of integrity, excellence and competence; unfettered by the shackles of friendship, relationship, or other considerations, thus vesting the cloak of Magistracy on those who will best dispense justice for all.”

Additionally, in its mission statement, the JBC promises among other things, “to promote transparency and public awareness of matters involving the nomination process in the Council,” as well as “to insulate the nomination process from undue influence of any kind.”

In theory, the JBC seems certain about where it wants to go, yet also in practice, unsure how to get there. In its 24-year life, it has fluttered from a closed to a somewhat open, then back again to a closed regime of transparency and access.

The next few weeks will test the JBC’s practice. It will soon resume screening nominees to two vacancies in the Supreme Court, and to the Office of the Ombudsman, under a new regime that embraced transparency, accountability, and good governance as its battle cry. – PCIJ, May 2011