In a surprising turn of events, the Philippine government has allocated a substantial budget to pay workers for participating in Brigada Eskwela, a program traditionally rooted in volunteerism. The Department of Labor and Employment (DOLE) has hired 243,000 workers under the TUPAD program, each receiving PHP 5,000 to assist in school cleanup and repairs. This initiative, costing approximately PHP 1.2 billion, has sparked a heated debate on whether the spirit of bayanihan is being compromised.
The Shift from Volunteerism to Paid Labor
Historically, Brigada Eskwela was a community-driven effort where parents, teachers, and local residents voluntarily contributed their time and labor to prepare schools for the opening of classes. It was a symbol of unity and shared responsibility, with participants bringing their own brooms, buckets, and even food. The activity fostered a sense of ownership and pride in the community's schools. However, the introduction of monetary compensation has changed the dynamic. Critics argue that paying volunteers undermines the essence of bayanihan, transforming a noble act of service into a transactional arrangement.
According to reports, the broader allocation for this effort may reach around PHP 2 billion. This raises questions about the government's priorities, especially given the ongoing National Energy Emergency and the persistent issues in the education sector, such as a shortage of 136,000 classrooms, learning gaps, overworked teachers, and chronic resource shortages.
Is Brigada Eskwela the Right Platform?
While providing livelihood opportunities is commendable, critics contend that Brigada Eskwela is not the appropriate venue for such spending. The program is designed to strengthen the home-school partnership through voluntary participation, fostering camaraderie, cooperation, collaboration, and creativity. When parents spend a day repainting a classroom for free, they leave behind more than paint; they leave a sense of pride and connection. In contrast, paid labor risks reducing the activity to a mere job site, where participants swipe in, sweep, and swipe out, devoid of the emotional investment that comes with volunteerism.
DepEd itself emphasizes that Brigada Eskwela thrives on voluntary participation and community partnerships. By attaching a price tag to volunteerism, the government may be inadvertently killing the spirit it promotes. The uncomfortable truth is that the moment you monetize bayanihan, you risk replacing a culture of shared responsibility with a system of transactional participation.
The Implications for Future Brigada Eskwela
Looking ahead, the shift could have long-term consequences. Next year, when the announcement for Brigada Eskwela is made, the community might respond with questions like, "How much is the pay?" or "Is the rate still the same?" This would mark a departure from the traditional Brigada Eskwela, which was characterized by genuine malasakit (compassion) and love for the community.
It is important to clarify that this is not an attack on TUPAD workers, who are doing honest work and deserve support. The issue lies with the policy, not the people. The question is whether Brigada Eskwela is the right platform for paid labor, or whether the government has unintentionally replaced a culture of shared responsibility with a system of transactional participation.
A Call for Better Coordination
Critics suggest that the Secretaries of DepEd and DOLE should have coordinated more closely before rolling out the program. Instead of allocating PHP 1.2 billion for cleaning and repairs, the funds could have been used to build new classrooms or address other pressing educational needs. The essence of Brigada Eskwela is bayanihan, not employment. By monetizing the program, the government risks teaching society that compassion has a price.
Brigada Eskwela was proof that Filipinos can come together willingly for the future of the youth. Now, it risks becoming proof that even bayanihan can be monetized. If the day comes when no one wants to help without payment, we should not be surprised, because we ourselves taught society that malasakit has a price—just like the price of the politicians who conceived this folly: paid bayanihan.
