THE MYSTERIOUS disappearance of Barangay MV Hechanova’s Sangguniang Kabataan (SK) chair in Jaro, Iloilo City — and the simultaneous disappearance of P430,000 in youth funds — has exposed something far deeper than one individual’s irresponsibility. It has unmasked a festering problem at the core of the SK system: a crisis of accountability sustained by structural flaws, weak oversight, and a culture of impunity disguised as “youth governance.”
The Department of Interior and Local Government (DILG) investigation revealed that the missing SK chair, who has not reported for duty since July, remains the only authorized signatory to the SK’s bank account. As a result, the entire youth council has been paralyzed for months — unable to process even basic transactions. This single point of failure speaks volumes about how fragile and poorly designed the SK’s internal systems are. One person vanishes, and the whole structure collapses.
This is not just a personnel issue — it’s a governance failure. The MV Hechanova SK experience highlights what’s wrong with the SK system nationwide: it has grown dependent on the assumption that all young leaders are responsible, while ignoring the need for institutional safeguards. Where were the checks and balances? Why was there no secondary signatory? Why do SK officials, who handle hundreds of thousands in public funds, operate with less scrutiny than a small cooperative?
The DILG, for all its good intentions, must share the blame. Oversight should not end with seminars and compliance checklists. When an SK official disappears for months without accountability, it reflects not only personal neglect but also the inability of supervising agencies to enforce the SK Reform Act’s provisions on attendance, fund management, and transparency. DILG’s monitoring must evolve from reactive investigations to proactive audits — and from polite reminders to swift disciplinary action.
This case should compel Congress and the DILG to revisit the very structure of SK governance. There must be mandatory dual signatories for all financial accounts, automatic succession protocols when an officer becomes incapacitated or missing, and public disclosure systems requiring SKs to post quarterly financial reports both online and at barangay halls. Sunlight remains the best disinfectant, and transparency should not depend on whether a chairman decides to show up.
The irony is bitter: the SK was created to train young Filipinos in democratic governance, yet it now mirrors the same bureaucratic dysfunctions that plague adult politics — absenteeism, poor fiscal management, and lack of consequence. If this continues, we will raise not a new generation of public servants, but a new generation of officials fluent in excuses.
The MV Hechanova SK case is a warning. If a youth council can grind to a halt because one person went missing — and hundreds of thousands vanish with him — then the entire SK system is broken at its foundation. It’s time to rebuild it, not just reform it. Accountability cannot wait for age or experience. It begins the moment one takes an oath to serve.
