My EIC’s recent investigative piece triggered my caffeinated nerve.

It exposed a loophole that isn’t scandalous — just old.

Thirty-five years old.

Seven presidents have cycled through Malacañang.
Administrations upgraded slogans. Rebranded priorities.
Changed logos.

The law?

Still on 1991 settings.

Don’t get me wrong — I love the ‘90s. The fashion can stay. The music can stay.

But legislation is not supposed to be retro.
Some things deserve revival.
Obsolete laws are not one of them.

We transact through apps.
Track deliveries in real time.
Scan QR codes to pay for coffee.

Yet a key section of the Local Government Code still ticks like Morse code in a Wi-Fi nation.

And this — this — is what Congress should be fixing.

Not ceremonial outrage.
Not press-conference choreography.
Not predictable alignment with whichever political camp is trending this quarter.

Lawmakers were elected to legislate.
Not to cosplay as project engineers.

Budget deadlocks have turned into a gentleman’s club theater — velvet chairs, heavy egos, a simple rule: never blink, never concede, never mind the public.

Pride is protected.
Turf is guarded.
The public is exposed.

Public service becomes a staring contest.

And while the stare-down stretches, workers lose.
Frontliners. Casual staff. Job orders.

The invisible backbone of local government — dispensable on paper, indispensable in practice.

Which raises a harder question: why are we still addicted to job orders?

If the government is truly “for the people,” stability should be structural — not a favor granted on renewal.

Yes, some roles are tied to political confidence — a chief of staff, a personal secretary. Those rise and fall with the mandate. Make them co-terminus.

That is political trust.

But institutions can’t be built on political trust and personal loyalty.

Professional trust belongs in every position.
Insecurity does not.

And a local government unit should resemble an institution, not a temp agency with a seal.

Seventy-thirty.
Eighty-twenty.

Stability over a culture of insecurity disguised as flexibility.

Because when permanence becomes optional, loyalty becomes transactional.

Institutions built on insecurity don’t project strength.
They project fear.

Employment security should not hinge on budget theatrics.

And Congress watches.
Or worse — performs.

Instead of revisiting obsolete provisions vulnerable to stalemates, lawmakers appear more energized by issues that photograph well before the next election.

Visibility over viability.
Optics over architecture.
Campaign math over policy math.

Meanwhile, representatives drift into operational matters already handled by department heads and engineers — inspecting asphalt, hovering over infrastructure, micromanaging the measurable.

Leave the cat’s eyes and overpasses to the engineers.

You are lawmakers.

Update the law.
Close the gaps.
Modernize provisions drafted when fax machines were cutting-edge.

Outdated laws are not harmless. They age like exposed wiring — quiet until something shorts.

And when governance starts resembling a palace where budgets are negotiated like favors, democracy doesn’t collapse in spectacle.

It contracts.

Smaller for workers.
Smaller for institutions.
Smaller for citizens who expect legislation, not live theater.

Thirty-five years is long enough.

Seven presidents is long enough.

If Congress prefers measuring pavement over amending statutes, perhaps we should start electing civil engineers instead.

Still brewing thoughts — no sugarcoating, just governance that runs on more than ego.