takes the MRT-3.
Secretary Giovanni “Banoy” Lopez ordered his subordinates at the Department of Transportation (DoTr) to commute by public transportation at least once a week. The intent is for them to experience first-hand the delays, crowding, and other difficulties that ordinary commuters face daily.
“This… is to ensure the effective implementation of transportation projects and programs by allowing DoTr officials to gain first-hand experience of various public transport systems and better understand the daily struggles of commuters,” read the memorandum released Sept. 15.
Mr. Lopez ordered his senior officials to ride jeepneys, buses, and trains. Covered by the directive were the heads at the Land Transportation Office (LTO), the Land Transportation Franchising and Regulatory Board (LTFRB), the Light Rail Transit Authority (LRTA), and the Philippine National Railways (PNR).
By now, the directive is a month old. Mr. Lopez’s goal, I presume, is to make his officials better understand the hardships of the commuting public using all modes of public transport. Officials must also submit reports after each weekly commute, sharing observations, recommendations, and action plans.
While I laud the Lopez directive, I wonder why it needed a formal department order. The good secretary, in my opinion, seems to be intent on institutionalizing empathy in his office. As if a mere memorandum could make officials more empathetic and transform them into better public servants.
If empathy is the essence of public service, why must it be codified in memos and directives? The DoTr memorandum implicitly admits that empathy has lost its place in the DoTr bureaucracy, and that transport officials have become too insulated from the daily struggles of commuters, who are among the very people they serve.
Nothing proves this point more than the case of one of his undersecretaries who was ordered to explain the use of a protocol plate and blinkers on a private vehicle that was involved in a traffic altercation caught on video. Mr. Lopez ordered his undersecretary to explain why he shouldn’t be sanctioned.
The official, who is now on an indefinite leave of absence, had skipped a scheduled hearing on the incident at LTO. But his driver showed up, and LTO recommended revoking the driver’s license and impounding the vehicle, which was registered to a private company.
The incident highlights the clash between Mr. Lopez’s order for his people to experience the burdens of ordinary commuters, and the apparent perpetuation of official privilege. The protocol plate incident reveals the limits of the order and, in a way, diminishes it to nothing more than a symbolic gesture.
True public service rests on empathy and responsiveness. Yet, when institutions fail to nurture that mindset, government ends up institutionalizing what should be innate. It is ironic that public officials still need to be told to be among the people. Obviously, something has gone wrong in our public service culture.
Rank has clearly brought insulation. Officials sit in comfort while the rest of us wallow in traffic and floods. The result is a widening empathy gap. Lopez’s memo is a forced corrective. Servant leadership puts the needs of the people first. Officials may have forgotten they are public servants, first and foremost.
Without a formal order, the empathy campaign risks being symbolic. A memo from the secretary helps ensure compliance, consistency, and accountability. If it were merely voluntary, many officials might not participate, especially those used to private cars or service vehicles, or who do not wish to be inconvenienced.
By requiring senior officials to report observations and suggestions, the order also provides legal and administrative weight to data gathering and service assessment. If linked to performance evaluations, budgets, or project decisions, the exercise could actually have a more meaningful impact.
Without the memorandum, the public might dismiss the empathy initiative as hypocrisy. The mandate, at least, makes the effort official business. In other countries, though, such an order is unnecessary. Public officials ride transit as a matter of course. In Europe, for instance, some ministers even use a bicycle to get to work.
The Lopez memo underscores the distance that has grown over the years between rulers and the ruled. And in the case of his undersecretary, whose privilege was allegedly unchecked, the department’s attempt at empathy now risks collapsing into hypocrisy.
But honestly, is a weekly commute by senior officials really enough to inform transport policy? Can it truly make a difference? Can a once-a-week experience capture the complexity of public transportation issues, and lead to long-term solutions rather than stop-gap measures? Mr. Lopez needs to prove critics wrong.
There is also room for abuse. Officials could game the system by choosing easy routes or less crowded times, just to meet their “commuting day” requirement. Practical concerns also arise: security, safety, and time lost. Burdened officials might push back, arguing that the directive hampers their work.
Empathy, in my view, can be a valuable policy tool, especially when combined with solid data and empirical evidence. But empathy should not be contrived or mandated. Ideally, experiencing the system should be an instinctive part of transport policymaking. Opinion and learning come from experience, and not just from reading a report.
The Lopez order is a step in the right direction. But the real test is whether it can produce concrete reforms. Too early to tell, still. However, the effort must eventually translate into better conditions, more reliable systems, safer commutes, and improved infrastructure.
Otherwise, it risks becoming mere public relations. Lip service, and nothing else. A populist move meant to influence public opinion, if not entertain, without real connection to reform or change. To avoid this, the reports and feedback must feed directly into transport planning and help shape policy.
Public service is supposed to be rooted in empathy. Yet officials now need a memo to remind them to live through what their constituents endure daily. This paradox highlights the gap between the ideal of servant leadership, which is knowing the pulse of the people, and the reality of bureaucratic detachment.
Mr. Lopez means well. I do not think it is his intent to embarrass his subordinates. Rather, he is requiring them to feel what they should already understand. Empathy should flow naturally in public service. But for those who may have forgotten, Mr. Lopez’s corrective measure may indeed be necessary.
The danger is that commuting once a week turns into a staged act. And that undermines genuine empathy, which demands consistency, presence, and action, not token gestures. The order will matter only if it leads to reforms and solutions. Otherwise, it reduces empathy to ritual.
The protocol-plate scandal should not be just a footnote. Let it be the moment when mandate and accountability collide. If handled well, the probe can deepen the credibility of the DoTr’s empathy experiment. If mishandled, it will deepen public cynicism: that empathy from officials is just a pose.
Ultimately, public service should not have to require reminders to feel the pulse of the people. Empathy should be innate as it is the heartbeat of governance. If making it mandatory is necessary, it is because officials have forsaken their purpose, disregard accountability, and abuse their privileges.
Marvin Tort is a former managing editor of BusinessWorld, and a former chairman of the Philippine Press Council.
matort@yahoo.com
