What price are you willing to pay to survive another day?

For some, paying for convenience is the obvious answer. Others forfeit a whole day’s wage waiting in line for ayuda. Yet for far too many Filipinos, a chance at financial assistance may even cost them their life.

In April of this year, a motorcycle driver passed away while in queue for a Php5,000 cash relief assistance from the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD). That same day, over 2,500 transport worker beneficiaries lined up at the Quezon Memorial Circle payout site, enduring hours of unbearable heat in hopes of receiving a measly amount of ayuda.

Assistance programs, also called ayuda(Spanish for assistance), have become the government’s primary response to indigents’ calls for dignified, livable economic conditions. From pandemics and climate-related disasters to oil price shocks, the culture of ayuda exposes a system where welfare is dispensed through political patronage, while neoliberal policies go largely unchallenged and continue to deepen the very hardships that make such assistance necessary.

Too little, too few, too late

There are several types of ayuda. Executive departments handle ayuda related to their mandates, such as the Department of Labor and Employment’s (DOLE) Tulong Pang-hanapbuhay sa Ating Disadvantaged/Displaced Workers (TUPAD) and the Department of Health’s (DOH) Medical Assistance for Indigents and Financially Incapacitated Patients (MAIFIP).

The DSWD, as the country’s dedicated center for welfare and development, spearheads over 19 programs for immediate crisis relief or social protection for poverty alleviation, ranging from cash transfers, in-kind relief, targeted programs, and conditional aid.

“[Sa DSWD], may crisis intervention unit ka, ‘yan ang laging pinipilahan; ito ang Assistance to Individuals in Crisis Situations (AICS). May social protection programs [din], so may 4Ps [Pantawid Pamilyang Pilipino Program] ka, tapos may Sustainable Livelihood Program (SLP), tsaka may KALAHI-CIDSS,” said social activist, retired University of the Philippines (UP) professor, and former DSWD Secretary Judy Taguiwalo in an interview with IBON Foundation.

[At DSWD, you have a crisis intervention unit that people always line up for; that’s the AICS. There are also social protection programs, such as 4PS, SLP, and KALAHI-CIDSS.]

These existing programs follow a lengthy process before they become useful to a beneficiary. According to Taguiwalo, the process starts with a law outlining guidelines, inclusions, and qualified beneficiaries. Beneficiaries would then be identified, where politicians would commonly endorse beneficiaries through a “listahan.” After the procurement of relief (rice, canned goods, etc. for family food packs), only then does distribution to communities commence.

“Sa UP [University of the Philippines], sanay naman kami mag-relief [operations]. It takes us 2-3 weeks to produce 500 family food packs. Pero sa DSWD, because it has the budget, personnel, transportation, and relief hubs donated by Australia, in one day, kaya niyang mag-produce ng 50,000 family food packs; at kaya mong ma-distribute [agad] ‘yan,” said Taguiwalo.

[At UP, we are used to conducting relief operations. It takes us 2-3 weeks to produce 500 family food packs. But at DSWD, because it has the budget, transportation, and relief hubs donated by Australia, in one day, it can produce 500,000 family food packs and immediately distribute them.]

But despite DSWD’s nationwide capacity to efficiently distribute ayuda, many Filipinos continue to battle a wide array of challenges to financial assistance.

Bureaucratic red tape traps many Filipinos in long wait times, stringent requirements, and, in some cases, the added burden of needing access to online financial services just to receive ayuda. For some, this means giving up a day’s wage (or the mere chance to earn it), which is stuck at the average minimum of Php512—Php790 short of IBON’s estimated average family living wage (FLW) of Php1,302 per day for a family of five. For most, it means giving up their dignity.

“Sinubukan naming kumustahain yung mga 4Ps beneficiaries, so pumunta talaga ako sa Mindanao [at Bicol], nakipag-interview ako. Essentially, happy sila kasi may dagdag pera sila, na otherwise, hindi nila makikita,” Taguiwalo said, recalling her most impactful interaction with a beneficiary.

“Although, ang sinasabi nila, nahihiya sila sa mga kapitbahay nila na hindi nakaka-receive ng ayuda. May ibang nagsasabi, ‘Ang gusto namin, actually, trabaho kesa makatanggap ng ayuda’,” she added.

[We tried checking in on 4Ps beneficiaries, so we went to Mindanao and Bicol to interview them. Essentially, they’re happy because they have extra money that they wouldn’t have otherwise earned. Although they also said that they feel ashamed for receiving it compared to their neighbors who didn’t. They’d say, ‘What we want is a job instead of just receiving ayuda’.]

As a program created and financed by the World Bank in 2008, 4Ps frames “development” through the neoliberal lens of human capital for global competitiveness. This framing makes the Philippines further reliant on overseas and business process outsourcing (BPOs) jobs.

Even other livelihood assistance programs, such as the SLP and TUPAD, are short-sighted measures that provide no permanent job security for the increasing number of unemployed persons.

DOLE’s TUPAD, for example, only provides emergency employment for 10-30 days for its currently identified 13,000 beneficiaries, roughly 0.5% of 2.59 million unemployed persons this June 2026. Clearly, social protection assistance programs are and continue to be myopic as poverty alleviation programs.

As for crisis response, beneficiaries continue to face a grim reality.

“Noong [naging secretary ako noong] 2016, ang papel ko ay ma-ensure yung mga Ondoy at Yolanda backlogs sa calamities. Halimbawa, sa Yolanda, marami pang emergency shelter na hindi inayos. And supposedly, kahit nasira [nang] buo ang bahay mo, you only receive Php15,000-Php30,000. Emergency shelter assistance ‘yan ha, but it takes years!” Taguiwalo said, exasperated.

[When I became the secretary in 2016, my job was to ensure the Ondoy and Yolanda backlogs in calamities. For example, for Yolanda, there were still many emergency shelters that were not properly implemented. And supposedly, even if your house gets completely damaged, you will only receive Php15,000-Php30,000. It’s called emergency shelter assistance, but it takes years!]

Typhoon Ondoy displaced 450,000 individuals, while Super Typhoon Yolanda displaced 4 million individuals and destroyed 1.1 million houses. Ondoy struck the Philippines in 2009, while Yolanda in 2013; seven and three years before Taguiwalo served as DSWD secretary, respectively.

The Marcos. Jr administration sought to expedite and unify government assistance programs through the Unified Package for Livelihoods, Industry, Food, and Transport (UPLIFT) program in light of the global oil crisis. But the UPLIFT program reports only 2.7 million assisted beneficiaries since March, or 13% of IBON’s estimated 21 million vulnerable households amid the current cost-of-living crisis.

Even in times of grief and thunderous calamities, the government’s slow crisis response provides no true immediate relief for those displaced and devastated, leaving millions of Filipinos drifting for years.

Administrative limitations and exclusion

On the frontlines of crisis response and social welfare programs are humble social workers who keep the cogs running in institutions like the DSWD. Yet despite their crucial role in social welfare and development, social workers remain unsupported and underfunded.

“May personnel problem ‘din [ang DSWD]. Halimbawa, sa 4Ps, we’re talking of 4 million beneficiaries noong panahon ko. Ang isang municipal link [social worker], ang caseload niya would be 200 families. Hindi na siya makakagawa ng casework, so i-ikot na lang siya to follow up [on beneficiaries of 4Ps],” Taguiwalo said, highlighting the overloaded nature of social workers in the Philippines.

[DSWD also has a personnel problem. For example, in 4Ps, there were roughly 4 million beneficiaries during my service. One municipal link [social worker] would have a caseload of 200 families. They’re unable to do casework; instead, they’d roam around communities and go house-to-house to check in on 4Ps beneficiaries.]

According to Taguiwalo, there were roughly 30,000 DSWD personnel nationwide in 2016. Most of them were contractual, with only 10% or about 3,000 workers regularized. Ten years later, 4Ps municipal links’ caseloads doubled with up to 400 beneficiaries each, all while continuing to struggle for plantilla positions despite years of frontline service.

“Hindi mo mamaliitin yung dedication [ng DSWD staff] sa trabaho. Maraming social workers doon sa Region X o XII, fasting sila, pero tuloy ang trabaho. Ganoon ‘din sa Kalinga at Tuguegarao. May iba sa kanila, binagyo ‘din ang pamilya; pero nandoon sila sa field – tuloy pa ‘rin ang trabaho,” Taguiwalo remarked.

[You really can’t belittle the DSWD staff’s dedication to their work. A lot of social workers in Region X or XII are fasting but continue to work. It’s the same in Kalinga at Tugeugarao. Some of them continue to show up and work in the field even if their families are affected by the flood, too.]

Whether in the office or in the field, social workers also bear the brunt of frustrations over beneficiary targeting and identification.

“Ang isa pang problem would be inclusion/exclusion. Dahil hindi siya [targeting system] universal, may mga na-e-exclude na qualified naman; tapos may mga in-i-include na hindi qualified, pero malapit sa kusina,” Taguiwalo explained.

“Dahil targeted, selective ang mga ginagawang listahan. Kaya, hinahabol [ng mga tao] yung mga social workers [at tinatanong], ‘Bakit kami wala, bakit sila meron?’ Ganiyan kapag targeted – may exclusion na nakaka-divide ng communities.”

[Another problem would be inclusion/exclusion. Because the targeting system is not universal, there are people who are qualified but are excluded, and people who are not qualified who are included because they have political favor. It’s a selective list. That’s why people chase social workers and ask, ‘How come we don’t have ayuda, how come others do?’ That’s what happens when it’s targeted – exclusion divides communities.]

Both DSWD beneficiaries and workers experience institutionalized injustices that directly affect their economic power. Despite countless guidelines, safeguards, and laws, Taguiwalo reveals that the root cause of common struggles with assistance programs stems from a deeply ingrained political patronage system.

Political patronage and corruption

In Taguiwalo’s firsthand experience observing ayuda, corruption and patronage are deeply entrenched in the identification, procurement, and distribution systems across varying government levels.

In her recollection, the former DSWD secretary reveals that a governor in Northern Luzon refused to distribute family food packs to a municipality for the simple reason that the mayor of the municipality was against the governor’s political faction. This delay occurred while thousands of families battled an ongoing disaster.

“May isa namang mayor, nireport sa amin na hindi niya dinidistribute yung family food packs; this was in October. Plano niyang i-distribute ang family food packs sa December, pang-Christmas gift,” said the former secretary.

“Sa Bicol naman, barangay level. Kinukuwento naman doon na pinapalinis niya yung bahay niya, pero ang pambayad niya doon ay family food packs. [Inuwi niya] doon sa bahay niya; inari niya na.”      

[There is one mayor who was not distributing the family food packs; this was in October. The mayor planned to distribute in December as Christmas gifts. In Bicol, at the barangay level, we were told that family food packs were used as payment for cleaning the barangay official’s house, who brought home the food packs and treated them as his/her property.]

Each rung on the ladder of decentralized politics ultimately leads up to broader patterns of corruption at the national level. In the 2027 National Expenditure Program (NEP), Social Protection and Welfare Employment accounts for 4.5% of the proposed budget—0.7 percentage point lower than in 2025, and is at its lowest since 2010.

The Marcos Jr administration also allocated Php241.6 billion to DSWD, nearly Php30 billion short of the department’s initially proposed Php270 billion budget. Meanwhile, there remains Php112 billion in unprogrammed funds prone to patronage and corruption for the following year in preparation for the upcoming 2028 national elections.

More interestingly, the department continues to propose a Php100 billion budget for 4Ps despite a downward trend in active household beneficiaries. In 2023, there were 4.4 million active households, which declined by 400,000 to 4 million in 2024, and down to roughly 3 million in 2025-2026, as announced by current DSWD Secretary Rex Gatchalian.

“Ang explanation [ng gobyerno], nag-increase [daw] ang amount ng assistance. But definitely, sa karanasan namin, at kung bakit ako naligwak, nalaman natin na may cuts sila [Congress] diyan eh,” Taguiwalo said, further explaining the mismatch between active beneficiaries and budget allocation.

[The government says that the budget increase is due to higher amounts of assistance. But definitely, through our experience, and the reason why my confirmation was rejected, we found out that Congress has shares in that budget.]

While political dynasties in Congress continue to pocket billions in financial aid budgets for their own election funds, millions of families remain waitlisted due to the lack of timely and reliable data on official poverty and food thresholds that reflect their true situations.

Just this month, the Department of Economy, Planning, and Development (DEPDev) and the Philippine Statistics Authority (PSA) touted a poverty incidence among families of 6.4% or 1.9 million families in 2025, lower than 10.9% in 2023 and 13.2% in 2021. However, a 2026 Social Weather Station (SWS) survey showed that there was a 52% annual average of self-rated poverty in the same period in 2025 and was more or less sustained at 49% in June 2026.

The stark difference between the official poverty incidence of 6.4% and the SWS self-rated poverty stems from the government’s ridiculously low per family poverty threshold of Php481 a day, which ignores the lived reality of millions of poor and vulnerable Filipino families. This deliberate underestimation keeps impoverished Filipinos invisible and serves as a convenient excuse for social protection programs to be underfunded and appropriated only for political gains.

Ayuda as pacifier

Political dynasties, politicians, and government officials have weaponized ayuda as a pacifier—keeping suffering Filipinos barely afloat, just enough to not question the system built around assistance programs, nor to challenge the blatant prioritization of corporations, markets, and profits over people’s welfare. Ayuda mutes dissent against neoliberalism.

“Ang sinasabi, ang 4Ps ang magshi-shift ng initial poverty-related laziness to development of human capital in terms of education and health. Pero and 4Ps rin ang nag-create ng institutionalized pacification for neoliberal shocks,” Taguiwalo said.

“Ang frame ng gobyerno is global competitiveness for neoliberal foreign investments; dependent ka sa remittances and call centers. Nagde-depend ka sa global market sa halip na madevelop mo ‘yung domestic economy mo first and foremost – [including] food security, manufacturing, and industrialization that will serve the needs of the people,” she emphasized.

[It’s said that 4Ps will shift initial poverty-related laziness to the development of human capital in terms of education and health. But it’s also 4Ps that creates institutionalized pacification for neoliberal shocks. The government’s framing is global competitiveness for neoliberal foreign investments; you’re essentially dependent on remittances and call centers. You depend on the global market instead of developing your own domestic economy first and foremost – including food security, manufacturing, and industrialization that will serve the needs of the people.]

The ayuda system is clearly about neoliberal welfare policies, set in place only for temporary welfare to keep families subservient to patronage politics and to steer the economy toward priorities shaped by foreign interests rather than people’s needs.

True social welfare should be anchored in a national development plan centered on the needs and capacities of the Filipino people, not subordinated to neoliberal prescriptions, much less held captive by patronage politics.

There is no question that social welfare programs such as ayuda remain necessary in a country mired in deep poverty and underdevelopment. But under neoliberalism, welfare is reduced to temporary relief while the policies that reproduce social insecurity remain intact. Cash transfers may ease immediate hardship, but they cannot substitute for structural change.