By Alyanna Gabas
As election season nears in the country, a noticeable pattern emerges—a pattern where the Ayuda Culture thrives, rooted in the deepening dependency of citizens on government handouts.
For many, these temporary reliefs have become a lifeline, as they feel they have no other option but to rely on them. This dependency, however, speaks volumes on the lack of genuine support and development from the government, leaving people trapped in a cycle of short-term aid and long-term uncertainty.
In a small, humble barangay just outside Tanjay City’s center, Maria (an alias for privacy) awaited for the arrival of political candidates bearing envelopes filled with cash.
She has lived in the same neighborhood for over 30 years, raising her children on a minimal income from her small sari-sari store.
“Bisan og gamay ra nga kwarta, makahatag gyud og kahupayan. Ang problema lang, wala man gyud naghatag ang gobyerno og tarong nga serbisyo para sa mga tawo,” Maria said.
(Even a small amount of money can give us success. The only problem is that the government has never given proper service to the people.)
Maria represents countless others who feel as if they have no choice but to accept the handouts offered by candidates, hoping it will fill the gaps left by government neglect.
“Kung dili sila maghatag, wala mi laing kapilian. Ang ayuda na lang ang mahimo namong saligan,” she added.
(We have no other choice if they do not give us anything. So we solely rely on the ayuda.)
For Maria, the difference is clear. “Ang ayuda dili parehas sa mga benepisyo nga gihatag sa gobyerno. Ang ayuda mao’y tabang sa mga kandidato, mga temporaryo lang, ug dili kay mga long-term nga solusyon,” she explained.
(Ayuda is different from the benefits given by the government. Ayuda is only temporary help given by candidates, not a long-term solution.)
These handouts are intended to provide temporary relief, but when they become the primary source of support, they emphasize the lack of lasting infrastructure or development in communities like hers.
For many, the culture of dependence has evolved over years of unmet needs.
“Dili ra man pud sa election lang. Ang mga tawo naghulat na jud sa ayuda kay ang gobyerno wala man magtabang sa amoa,” said Lito Soriano, a 62 year old fisherman from a coastal barangay in Bais City.
(It is not only during elections. People really wait for the ayuda because the government does not help us.)
Soriano’s words reflect a deeper issue: the government’s failure to address the root causes of poverty, such as inadequate infrastructure, lack of healthcare, and limited educational opportunities. Without these vital services, many people turn to the nearest source of relief—political candidates who promise cash, food, and other forms of aid during election season.
The Ayuda Culture has become a tool not just for survival but for political gain. Candidates capitalize on the growing dependency of voters to present themselves as saviors.
“Dili lang kay ayuda ang gihatag, kundi image na pud sa mga kandidato nga nagtabang sa mga tawo. Sa tinuod, ang kwarta nga ilang gihatag gikan ra pud sa mga buwis sa katawhan,” explained Josie, a local teacher.
(Not only are the people given ayuda, but also an image of the candidate helping the people. In reality, the money they are giving actually comes from the taxes of the people.)
The crux of the issue lies in the government’s inability—or unwillingness—to provide sustainable solutions.
“Ang mga sektor nga unta magtabang sa mga tawo, sama sa mga healthcare workers, mga edukador, ug mga livelihood programs, wala gyud mahatagi og saktong suporta,” said Josie.
(The sectors that could help the people, such as healthcare workers, educators, and livelihood programs, are not given sufficient support.)
Instead of investing in these essential sectors, the government has chosen to rely on aid programs, which only serve to temporarily ease the pain but do nothing to address the long-term needs of the population.
As the elections approach, candidates distribute cash with the promise of solving problems, but the underlying message is clear: the government has left its citizens with no other choice but to depend on these handouts.
“Kung magpadayon ni nga sistema, maglisod ang mga tawo nga magdaug og tarong nga solusyon sa ilang problema,” added Maria, echoing the concerns of many who feel that the cycle of dependency is being perpetuated rather than broken.
(If this system goes on, the people would have difficulty in looking for proper solutions to their problems.)
As more and more citizens rely on these political handouts, the less they expect from the government’s institutions.
“Ang ayuda na lang gihapon ang naghatag og kahupayan, pero kung wala na’y election, balik na pud sa wala,” Maria reflected, suggesting that her community’s dependence on these temporary aids has stunted any expectation of lasting change.
(Ayuda is the only relief, but when the elections end, we go back to having nothing.)
Voters, once hopeful for real change, now wait patiently for the next batch of cash, further deepening their reliance on a political system that thrives on temporary fixes rather than long-term solutions.
“Kung naa ra man sad sila maghatag sa panahon sa election, makig-uban ta, pero walay epekto kay ang mga tawo magpabilin gihapon nga nagkinahanglan,” Soriano concluded, revealing the grim reality of how little has changed for the people who rely on these handouts.
(If they give aid to the people during elections, we cooperate with them, but it has no effect because the people are still in need of help.)
