BROKEN ROADS, BROKEN SYSTEMS AND BROKEN CHILDREN

BROKEN ROADS, BROKEN SYSTEMS AND BROKEN CHILDREN

We often grumble about our roads and bridges—those pothole-riddled highways and rusting steel spans that were probably last inspected when Marcos Sr. was still in Malacañang. In some places, it takes five decades before anyone even thinks of maintenance.

Now, if that’s how we care for concrete and asphalt, what more for our orphanages and childcare facilities, where what’s at stake isn’t infrastructure—but the emotional, mental, and spiritual well-being of real, vulnerable Filipino children?

At least with highways, we know whom to blame—the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH). But with orphanages, who’s accountable? Is it the DSWD? Or does the blame go even higher?

We have had a long line of Secretaries—some technocrats, some reformers, many well-meaning—but how is it that basic maintenance, supervision, and care still fall through the cracks? Maybe, just maybe, it’s not about individual incompetence but a flaw in our national culture: we simply don’t value maintenance—of roads, of buildings, of systems… or of lives.

Let’s get one thing straight: I’m not just talking about leaky roofs or cracked walls in these orphanages. I’m talking about neglected souls, children left to languish in bureaucratic silence because no one ever bothered to check on how they were really doing.

Let me share what I’ve learned:

A Catholic volunteer working with disadvantaged children told me that the Bureau of Standards (BOS)—the unit within DSWD that’s supposed to monitor these homes—doesn’t do unannounced spot visits. They often don’t even talk to the children. Instead, they go through checklists, inspect walls and floors, then leave. They might as well be assessing a warehouse.

Worse, most of these homes are unaccredited, and guess what? The unaccredited ones barely get inspected at all.

In some visits, officials told staff to build a “lockdown” room to isolate emotionally disturbed children—yes, like a punishment cell. What year is it again?

These inspections, when they happen, are obsessed with paperwork and plumbing, but blind to the pain in a child’s eyes. No conversations, no trauma programs, no emotional healing. Just ticks on a clipboard and a silent child staring through a barred window.

This is not just a failure of bureaucracy—it’s a failure of basic humanity.

Now ask yourself: Why are we so outraged when we see cracks in a bridge, but not when we hear about cracks in the soul of a child who’s been tossed from one failed system to another? Why are our leaders silent when there’s damage done not to concrete, but to character?

I ask: Where is the command responsibility? Shouldn’t someone at the DSWD answer for this? If the President is truly on a mission to “recalibrate” his Cabinet for efficiency and public service, then this is the perfect time to look under the floorboards of our child welfare system.

Here’s what I propose:

First, form an independent monitoring team made up of child welfare professionals—not paper-pushers—who can make unannounced visits, talk directly to the children, and file honest, uncensored reports.

Second, revise the accreditation process. Don’t let any child live in a home that hasn’t passed a thorough assessment—not just on safety and legality but on emotional and psychological care.

Third, use international best practices. Tools like the Child Status Index (CSI) and the Orphanage Information Management System (OIMS) are available globally. Why are we reinventing the wheel—or worse, ignoring it?

Lastly, empower the Bureau of Standards. Give them the authority, the tools, and the independence to do their job without interference. If they’re not up to the task, then shake them up and bring in people who care.

Mr. President, this is your moment. If you’re serious about quality public service, then make child welfare a cornerstone of your governance. These children are not just statistics. They are future Filipino adults, and the state has a sacred duty to protect them.

We can’t wait another 50 years before someone checks in on these kids. By then, it’ll be too late.

And if no one else will say this loudly, I will: we must act now or be complicit in silence.

Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres
iseneres@yahoo.com, 09088877282, senseneres.blogspot.com

08-02-2025