The Greatest Show in Manila: The Budget Circus of 2025

By Louis ‘Barok‘ C. Biraogo — August 29, 2024

PREPARE to be dazzled! The Philippine Budget Circus is back, and this year, it’s bigger, bolder, and more outrageous than ever before. The executive branch is pulling out all the stops, showering our esteemed lawmakers with money like confetti, and using a mix of bribery, cajoling, and the occasional melodramatic outburst to win their approval. But the real showstopper this year is the Office of the Vice President (OVP), which is presenting a budget proposal that’s so over-the-top, it’s practically a circus act in itself.

Act One: The Grand Proposal

First up, we have the OVP’s budget proposal for 2025, a carefully choreographed performance that aims to expand its existing programs while introducing a couple of shiny new acts. We’ve got the crowd favorites, like the “Libreng Sakay” (Free Ride) Program, which ensures that students and seniors can enjoy the luxury of government-sponsored transportation, as long as they don’t mind waiting until next election season for the buses to actually arrive.

Then there’s the “Pagbabago: A Million Learners and Trees Campaign,” which ambitiously aims to teach kids the importance of planting trees—because what could be more important than grooming our future environmental warriors to save the planet while the government secretly funds logging operations on the side?

But let’s not forget the “Pan Sarap Project,” designed to provide food assistance to vulnerable communities. It’s a noble cause, as long as you ignore the fact that the food packs are often mysteriously rebranded with a certain political figure’s face plastered on them.

And for the grand finale, the OVP rolls out two brand-new acts: the Educational Assistance Program and the Wheelchair Program. Because nothing says “we care” like a shiny new wheelchair to distract from the elephant in the room—namely, the excessive allocation of security personnel who, for some reason, need more funding than the programs themselves.

Act Two: The Confidential Funds Mystery

Now, no budget circus would be complete without a little magic. And by magic, I mean confidential funds. The OVP’s refusal to defend or even explain the use of these funds is a masterstroke of illusion. “Watch closely,” they say, “as we make 125 million pesos disappear!” Critics, of course, are left scratching their heads, wondering if this is a clever trick or just plain theft. But who needs transparency when you can have confidentiality? After all, nothing builds public trust like refusing to tell the public where their money is going.

Act Three: The Ethical Tightrope

As we move into the more daring acts, the OVP takes a walk on the ethical tightrope. The “You Can Be VP Program” is a heartwarming tale of youth empowerment—unless, of course, you’re cynical enough to notice that the selection process might be as rigged as a carnival game. And let’s not forget the “Pagbabago: A Million Learners and Trees Campaign,” which could be a noble cause—or just a clever way to funnel money to friends and family with environmental businesses.

As always, the OVP assures us that there’s nothing to worry about. Conflicts of interest? Nepotism? That’s just part of the show! The real trick is convincing the audience that everything is above board while quietly keeping the oversight committees out of the loop.

Act Four: The Alternative Budget

But wait, what if we turned this circus on its head? Imagine a budget where transparency wasn’t just a buzzword, where programs were judged on their actual effectiveness rather than their potential to sway voters. Picture a world where confidential funds were, gasp, accounted for. Instead of throwing more money at security personnel than at social programs, how about we redirect those funds to something radical—like ensuring the “Libreng Sakay” program actually has buses to offer?

What if, instead of handing out food packs with a politician’s face on them, we focused on creating sustainable food sources for vulnerable communities? And wouldn’t it be something if the “You Can Be VP Program” actually selected participants based on merit, rather than connections?

But who am I kidding? This is the Philippines, where the budget circus is as much a part of our culture as the fiestas and karaoke. So let’s just sit back, enjoy the show, and remember that while the acts may change, the circus itself never ends.

Final Recommendations: The Clown Car Approach

To the OVP, I recommend embracing your inner ringmaster. If you’re going to play the part, go all in—maybe even add a little more flair to your budget defense. After all, if you can’t convince them with facts, confuse them with pageantry.

And to the House of Representatives, remember that your job isn’t just to clap along. You’re supposed to be the watchdogs, not the lapdogs. Maybe next year, instead of rubber-stamping the budget, try asking a few hard questions—like where all that confetti really came from.

But let’s be real: nothing says “yes” to a budget proposal like a well-timed envelope under the table. So, until next year, let the circus continue!