THERE is a quiet unease when a system keeps delaying people’s chance to decide. It feels like a test being moved again and again — not because people aren’t ready, but because the one in charge isn’t. Eventually, effort fades. People start asking if it is still worth caring. That is where the barangay and SK election issue now rests — not in technicalities, but in the lived frustration of those who have waited long enough.
At some level, the reasons for postponement do sound reasonable. There is a fuel crisis. There are budget constraints. Sixteen billion pesos is not a small amount, especially when families are calculating every liter of gasoline and every kilo of rice. The Palace has said it is open to proposals if they benefit the country. That sounds pragmatic. But democracy is not a line item that can be conveniently adjusted when things get tight. It is a commitment that must hold especially when things are difficult. As NAMFREL pointed out, elections are not discretionary events; they are constitutional obligations that sustain public trust and accountability.
The legal anchors are clear. The Supreme Court has already ruled that repeated postponements undermine the constitutional guarantee of periodic elections and may violate the electorate’s right of suffrage (Supreme Court, 2023). Senator Sherwin Gatchalian has been blunt in calling another delay unconstitutional, noting that funds are available and that citizens are expecting to choose their local leaders. Even Comelec has raised concerns about the legality of realigning election funds. These are not partisan statements. They are institutional reminders that rules exist for a reason — and that bending them repeatedly weakens more than just timelines.
But if there is one reason the elections must proceed, it is this: barangay elections are the closest thing many Filipinos have to direct democracy. This is not about national personalities or distant policies. This is about the barangay captain deciding who receives aid, the kagawad settling everyday conflicts, the SK chair choosing between real youth work or just tarpaulins. When elections are postponed, people are not simply waiting for a new date. They are waiting for the chance to correct what is not working. As one hears in many communities, “sobra na ang nakaupo, kailangan na mapalitan.” That sentiment does not come from theory. It comes from lived experience.
There is also the quiet issue of trust. When election funds — already allocated and partly spent — are suddenly considered for realignment, it raises uncomfortable questions. Where does the money go? Who decides? Even the best intentions can be questioned when perception changes. And once that happens, trust becomes fragile. The Edelman Trust Barometer (2024) makes it clear — people trust what is consistent, not just what is said. When rules seem flexible, people start wondering why.
At the same time, barangay governance is not above criticism. Some communities are served well — issues are resolved, programs move, help arrives when needed. But in others, politics creeps in, and loyalty or popularity begins to matter more than actual work. Teachers often notice this first. Around election time, students carry fragments of adult politics into the classroom, repeating lines without fully understanding them. (To be continued)/PN
