By Atty. Greg B. Austral, CPA
The midterm elections in Bohol were overshadowed by a persistent problem—vote-buying. As the European Union Election Observation Mission (EU-EOM) pointed out in their preliminary findings, the practice is not just common across the Philippines; it’s “entrenched and endemic.” In Bohol, the days leading up to May 12, 2025, saw a familiar anticipation—locals braced for “uwan-uwan” or “ulan-ulan,” their shorthand for the flood of money expected from political camps. Some called it “gipusil” (gunshot), “wilwig” (giving), or “inangayan” (sharing), but no matter the code, the message was clear—votes had a price.
Amounts varied wildly. Some voters received as little as ₱50, while others took home a staggering ₱10,000. Vir, a Boholano father, admitted collecting ₱7,000 from mayoral and councilor candidates—enough to buy a new phone for his daughter. But he insisted he wasn’t selling his vote, merely accepting an act of kindness. Eddie, another resident, even traveled back to Bohol solely to claim his share from a mayoral candidate. He insisted the money wouldn’t dictate his vote, but the transaction speaks volumes about the state of democracy.
Vote-buying was rampant across the Visayas. In Leyte, candidates handed out ₱50 per voter for councilor positions, while mayoral bets went as high as ₱3,000. In Samar, the stakes were even higher—some voters received ₱10,000, pooled from candidates across different levels within the same party. That’s enough for a family to buy a motorcycle. A mother named Zenaida admitted taking the money despite knowing it was illegal—she said it helped with household expenses.
In Bohol, the problem runs deep, fueled by economic struggles and entrenched political dynasties. For many, selling a vote isn’t just about greed—it’s a survival strategy. A few hundred pesos might mean food on the table or medicine for a sick child. Yet the long-term cost is devastating. Vote-buying tilts the political playing field, favoring those with deep pockets rather than those with genuine leadership qualities. Once elected, these politicians often seek to recover their “investment” through corrupt deals, further eroding governance.
The Catholic Church in Bohol has long been vocal against vote-buying. Bishop Alberto Uy has condemned the practice as “destructive,” while grassroots movements like Diocesan Action towards Good Governance (DAMGGO) and efforts led by Father Darwin Gitgano have attempted to curb it. But the cycle continues—fueled by political families, weak enforcement, and desperate voters.
The Commission on Elections (Comelec) has placed several Bohol towns and Tagbilaran City under a “yellow” election watchlist, citing previous incidents of violence and intense political rivalries. Police operations, such as “Oplan Kontra Bigay,” led to the seizure of ₱250,000 in suspected vote-buying money in Cebu. But confiscations alone won’t dismantle the culture of electoral bribery.
Boholanos must realize that selling a vote has lasting consequences. It’s not just a quick cash grab—it determines who wields power for years to come. If democracy is to thrive in Bohol, voters and leaders alike must commit to clean elections and reject transactional politics. The Comelec and law enforcement need to go beyond arrests and evidence-gathering—offenders must be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.
If this issue is left unchecked, future elections could become mere auctions, where victory goes to the highest bidder rather than the most qualified leader. The time to fight back is now—for Bohol, for democracy, and for the future that its people deserve.