This is a three-part Power Play series examining the rise, ruin, and reluctant revival of transparency in Philippine governance through the lens of the Statement of Assets, Liabilities, and Net Worth (SALN).
In “The Illusion of Transparency,” I dissect how the SALNs, once a moral safeguard, degenerated into political theatre.
In “The Death of Disclosure,” I trace how the Ombudsman’s 2012 restrictions buried accountability under the language of “privacy.”
And in “The Resurrection of Transparency,” I explore the cautious reopening of access under the new Ombudsman, proposing a digital, data-driven transparency model inspired by best practices in Indonesia, Singapore, and South Korea.
Together, these essays argue that the real battle against corruption is not fought in courtrooms or headlines, but in the quiet architecture of disclosure where truth either shines or is systematically dimmed)
Part 1 of 3 – The Illusion of Transparency: The Real Role of SALNs
Every year, public officials sign their Statements of Assets, Liabilities, and Net Worth (SALNs): a ritual meant to prove honesty but that has, over time, devolved into theatre.
In theory, the SALN is the Republic’s moral thermometer, a public document designed to detect the fever of corruption. In practice, it has become a political costume: neat, polished, and often fictional.
The question is not whether SALNs work. It’s whether we ever allowed them to.
The Original Idea
When the 1987 Constitution mandated SALNs, the logic was simple: transparency would deter theft. If every official declared their wealth publicly, the public could see who was living beyond lawful means. It was a democratic innovation – accountability through sunlight.
The concept assumed two things:
- That the data would be truthful, and
- That the public could access and analyze it.
Both have long since collapsed.
The SALN as Symbol
For decades, the SALN has existed more as a symbol than a safeguard. It gives the illusion of compliance without the substance of consequence. A piece of paper signed, notarized, and filed, rarely audited, and often concealed.
Officials submit them with bureaucratic precision; anti-corruption agencies collect them with bureaucratic indifference. By the time anyone asks to see them, it’s usually too late: the fortune is already laundered, the evidence sanitized.
Even the once-powerful Ombudsman has retreated from its own transparency mandate. Since 2012, public access to SALNs has been restricted, ostensibly to “protect privacy” and “prevent harassment.” In truth, it protected power.
The Myth of Disclosure
The failure of the SALN is not in its design but in its domestication. It was meant to be a sword of accountability, but politicians blunted it into paperwork.
Today, SALNs function less as deterrents than as declarations of arrogance. Many are filled out with round numbers, omitted assets, undervalued properties, and “gifts” that miraculously multiply between election cycles. And because oversight bodies lack both the political will and forensic capacity to cross-check them, deception thrives.
Transparency without verification is not accountability; it’s performance.
When the SALN Worked Briefly
The one time the SALN proved its worth was during the 2012 impeachment of Chief Justice Renato Corona. His failure to declare certain bank deposits became the fulcrum of conviction. For a fleeting moment, the system worked: a paper trail led to political consequence.
But that moment also taught the political class a lasting lesson, not about honesty, but about survival. Since then, the SALN has been tamed. Access tightened, scrutiny chilled, and silence institutionalized. It is now a relic of reform, not a tool of it.
The Real Role of the SALN
The SALN’s true value lies not in its numbers but in its potential as a trigger: a starting point for investigative journalism, civil society auditing, and cross-agency coordination.
Used properly, it could:
- Allow journalists and watchdogs to trace unexplained wealth.
- Serve as a baseline for lifestyle checks and procurement oversight.
- Help build data-driven profiles of systemic graft patterns.
But for that, it must be public, digital, and verifiable. Anything less is hypocrisy dressed as transparency.
The Cultural Problem
The deeper failure is cultural, not procedural. In the Philippines, officials treat the SALN as compliance, not confession. Honesty has been bureaucratized, reduced to a form filled once a year instead of a standard lived daily.
The bureaucracy treats it as paperwork. The public treats it as theater. The result is an anti-corruption tool that neither frightens nor reveals.
Final Word
The SALN was meant to show us who our leaders are. Instead, it shows us what they think of us: that we will settle for signatures instead of scrutiny and formality instead of truth.
Transparency alone doesn’t kill corruption; it merely exposes it. What kills corruption is consequence.
Until the SALN leads to that, it will remain what it has long become: a mirror polished so often that it no longer reflects anything at all.
