Ka Leody De Guzman: On Schools, Corporations, and Trapos
Capitalism — a timeless welt that takes and takes until nothing is left but sighs and aches. No one knows this better than labour rights activist Ka Leody de Guzman, whom I interviewed for Fascinating Features’ Candid Candidates series.
While many recognize him for his staunch advocacy and presidential platform, few know of his formative years as a working student under the commercialized education system, and a factory worker who had been thrust into dehumanizing conditions.
De Guzman’s story is one among many testaments to the intricate contraptions that link profit-driven education and unfair labour practices together. But if there’s anything to be learned through the decades, it is that sighs and aches that are collectively heaved and felt can bring about winds of change.
Gasp For Air
At the early age of thirteen, De Guzman witnessed the economy plunge. His parents, both farmers from the province of Oriental Mindoro, were barely scraping by. Real wages in agriculture dipped beginning in 1970, and the prices of goods skyrocketed to 358% between 1975 and 1986 under Ferdinand Marcos’ regime.
“Para ma kasya lamang sa pamilya, ‘yong nabiling bigas, sinasamahan o hinahaluan ng giniling na mais,” he shared.
(So that we can have enough for the family, the rice we purchased was eaten or mixed with ground corn.)
Because of their cheap price, grits are culturally known as an alternative to rice, and rapidly became a staple food for low-income households. While good in moderation, corn causes malnutrition when overconsumed — a common trend in developing countries.
After graduating high school, De Guzman immediately went to the capital city of Manila to find a better-paying job, in the hopes of escaping the fringes of poverty. For that same reason, he studied Customs Administration at the Philippine Maritime Institute, funding his own education to help his parents shoulder costs.
“Nung nag-aral ako ng college, nasa loob na ako ng pabrika, nagtatrabaho na ako. Meron akong sariling sweldo, pero hindi talaga kakasya.”
(While I studied college, I was already inside a factory, working. I had my own salary, but it was never quite enough.)
He used his salary to cover tuition fees, school supplies, and transportation to and from campus. Still, the money wasn’t enough to provide for meals and rent, so he lived with his eldest sibling to cut costs. He toiled under this set-up for five years before he earned his diploma in October 1983.
Looking back on his working student days, De Guzman found that schools are typically owned by corporations using the students to earn a profit — a reflection of neoliberalism. Neoliberal policy claims that focusing on sustained economic growth means people will also benefit.
The presidential candidate questioned this run of thought: how will this work when corporate objectives weigh more than human rights or when substantial gains are reserved only for those at the top of the corporate ladder?
“Hindi ko naman naisip ito nung nag-aaral ako. Nung nag-aaral ako, ang alam kong issue lang ay ‘yong tuition fee,” he mused, adding that this by itself was already a pressing problem with many of his fellow students struggling financially at the time. However, the tuition fee costs were just the tip of the problem.
(I didn’t even think about this when I was still studying. When I was studying the only issue I was aware of was the [high] tuition fees.)
During our discussion, De Guzman also raised the problem of low salaries for teaching personnel, lack of school equipment, and how these relate to the quality of education one receives. He noticed this in his college years when teachers taught half-heartedly and had several absences in between since they were (and still are) paid so little.
The sizable ratio between high tuition fees and scarce educational resources and low salaries is not an isolated matter; such is a byproduct of commercialized education, which occurs when financial gain becomes the principal motive behind running schools.
To this day, education is still intrinsically tied to socioeconomic conditions. Low-income households, for one, are forced to prioritize survival over education, contributing to the growing number of out-of-school children and youth (OSCYs) in the Philippines. As of 2017, according to the Philippines Statistics Authority (PSA), close to four million students were considered to be OSCYs. Common reasons for not attending school, according to the PSA’s data, included marriage and the high cost of education. Around half of OSCYs fell within the bottom 30% of the population based on their families’ per capita income.
De Guzman was one of the fortunate ones for finishing his education.
More than 30 years later, commercialized education still runs its course, palpable in high tuition fees, dropout rates, and even academic-related suicide cases. The problems, however, don’t end within the school campus. If anything, the education system paves the way for our culture of work.
Aired Out Grievances
The musty smell of leather occupied De Guzman’s life for thirteen years. Working in a garment factory that produced leather gloves, he spent his weeks in long hours and harsh conditions for a low salary.
“Pati pag-ihi at pagdumi sa paggamit ng CR, kwentado ‘yong oras. May sexual harassment rin ng advisors sa mga kababaihan.”
(Even using the bathroom was a timed activity. Advisors also sexually harassed working women.)
De Guzman recounted how management took things a step further: they required workers to double down on production for the same measly pay. Spurred by discontent, workers requested a grievance conference, which was met with silence. They marched to the management office in protest, with De Guzman calling for added wage per piece made as a last resort.
He, along with eleven labour leaders, was charged with sabotage the next day. The factory management required De Guzman and the other labour leaders to explain why they shouldn't be terminated for their conduct. Then, the management removed the leaders from their posts by the factory management for violating "provisions on security and public order" and "inciting or participating in illegal strikes or concerted actions."
The dismissed workers filed a complaint for illegal dismissal. The case was brought to the Department of Labor and Employment, eventually reaching the Supreme Court, which ordered Aris Philippines, the employer, to reinstate the workers.
“‘Yong nangyayari sa workplace, parang ganyan din nangyayari sa mga eskwelahan … Doon sa interest lang talaga nung mga nasa korporasyon. Gano’n na lang eh. Parang mga robot nalang ‘yong bawat isa,” De Guzman said.
(What’s happening in the workplace is similar to what’s happening in schools … Their motivations lie with corporate interests. It’s come to that point. It’s like [students and workers] are reduced to robots.)
Corporations still demand hyper-productivity even with the newest advancements in technology, he added. Indeed, the work culture he experienced is an echo of excessive educational demands to study hard and succeed in school amid financial troubles and recently, the limitations of online learning.
De Guzman also addressed brain drain, implying it is not the workers to blame, but a systemic structure. Brain drain occurs when a good number of skilled graduates and professionals leave the country to work in another, consequently making it harder for the Philippines to develop as a nation-state.
“Ang dahilan niyan wala silang nakikitang future. Mababa ang sahod, kontraktwal na mga manggagawa na kung dito lang, walang mababago sa kanilang buhay. Kaya ‘yong mga graduates natin na merong opportunity para sa ibang bansa, nag-aabroad sila.”
(The reason [why brain drain exists] is that workers don’t see a future here. The wages are low, the workers are contractualized, nothing will change in their lives. This is why graduates who get the opportunity to work in another country, they go abroad.)
After the protest, De Guzman started organizing workers and abandoned his initial plan of getting ahead with a job in customs.
De Guzman is a founding member and the current Chairperson of the Bukluran ng Manggagawang Pilipino (BMP), a federation of workers and trade unions. Through their campaigning efforts, the government gave a 25-peso wage increase in the early 1990s. BMP also helped build the Kilusang Roll Back (KRB) Movement with Sanlakas, which forced former President Fidel Ramos to lower oil prices by an average of one peso per litre.
The federation also protested against then-President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo’s support for the United States’ war against Iraq, President Rodrigo Duterte’s war on drugs, among other administration decisions and actions the federation disagreed with.
De Guzman is affiliated with a sprawling network of community organizing groups and labour movements. He is a member of the Board of Trustees of PhilRights, the country’s representative to the International Council of the International Center for Labor Solidarity (ICLS) and the Vice President of the Asia Regional Organization of Bank, Insurance and Finance Union (AROBIFU).
Despite his long-standing service to Filipino workers, a slew of injustices prevail. Across the administrations of Fidel Ramos, Joseph Estrada, Gloria Arroyo, Benigno Aquino III, and Rodrigo Duterte, the gears of contractualization grind on.
Contractualization is the common practice of hiring employees under a short fixed-term contract with little to no benefits. While it cuts business costs, it also leads to job insecurity and possible rights violations.
De Guzman explained that contractualization is a package of problems, in such that contracted workers aren’t entitled to benefits, security of tenure, the power to unionize, and other constitutional rights and protections.
The government alone had 600,000 contractual employees in 2020 — a number “bigger than the Army, and second in size to the almost million-man DepEd workforce,” according to Senate President Pro Tempore Ralph Recto.
“Nawalan na talaga kami ng pag-asa,” De Guzman lamented.
(We have really lost hope.)
Let down by public officials time and time again, the former factory worker was moved to run for president with a pro-worker platform.
Winds of Change?
With no holds barred, De Guzman and his running mate, Walden Bello, anchored their electoral platform on reforming the political system and growing the national economy.
“Dapat magkaroon ng say ‘yong mga manggagawa sa takbo ng produksyon … Tapos, sa education system, tingin ko dapat itono sa kung ano ‘yong potensyal ng ating bansa para sa maunlad na lipunan … Hindi ‘yong gagamitin lang ang buong populasyon ng ating bayan para sa pagyaman ng kwarentang pamilya ng mga bilyonaryo.”
(Workers should have a say on the run of production … And, for the education system, I think we should focus on our country’s potential so that our society benefits too … The whole population shouldn’t be used for the enrichment of 40 billionaires’ families.)
Their proposed programs include the enforcement of a ‘billionaire's tax’, a national minimum wage of P750, a salary increase for COVID-19 frontliners effective immediately, and free healthcare for all. They also aim to end contractualization by authorizing direct hiring.
“Api ‘yong ating mga manggagawa na kinikilalang siyang productive forces, siyang forces of development. Pero walang pagdakila or recognition sa kanila kaya hanggang ngayon, marami sa ating mga manggagawa ay walang dignidad dahil kontraktwal,” he said.
(Our workers are established as the productive forces, the forces of development. But they aren’t treated as heroes or given recognition, which is why even until now, many of our workers have lost their dignity, especially because of contractualization.)
Competing with the popular and the rich for the highest seats in office, De Guzman affirms that their biggest strength rests with their platform and the Filipino masses who have fought and continue to fight the decades-long campaign for fair wages and the end of contractualization.
Supporters stepped up to help them in their social media brigade. He is also actively engaging in conversations and interviews for media exposure.
“Wala kaming pera, [pero] marami kaming masa. Sila naman, marami silang pera. Yon ang labanan, mabigat,” he said.
(We don’t have money, [but] we have the masses with us. Meanwhile, other candidates have a lot of money. The battle is heavy.)
He admitted that traditional politics and underhanded schemes like selling merch and giving away free goods are a challenge, especially because many already accept this as a norm in Philippine politics.
Still, he doesn’t want to compromise his platform with vote-buying and entertaining gimmicks. He would change the electoral system if he could — prohibit spending for campaigns, use government-owned provincial media stations to regulate airtime, move flyers on the streets to the barangays, and designate college students or graduates as watchers.
“Basta aming pinanghahawakan lang ay ‘yong ito’y para sakanila, at ito ‘yong aming dapat na gawin.”
(We hold that this is for the Filipino masses, and this is what we need to do.)
If elected as president, De Guzman expects resistance from public officials siding with the “elite.”
“Syempre ‘yong mga elite hindi papayag … kaya nga hindi nila binago ‘yan eh [decontractualization] sa mahabang panahon. Ngayon, babaguhin ko. Edi magagalit sila.”
(Of course, the elite won’t allow [decontractualizatio] ... that’s why they didn’t change that for a long time. Now, I will change it. Naturally, they’ll get angry.)
His plan is to engage senators and congressmen one by one, convincing them to support regularization and workers’ rights. He also intends to build allyships with progressives in the House of Representatives and the Senate.
“Alam ko naman ‘yong mga manggagawa na may dignidad ay may tamang sahod, may magandang katayuan sa trabaho — magiging produktibong manggagawa iyan.”
(I know that if workers are treated with dignity, given fair wages, and allowed good standing at work — they’ll become productive workers.)
If all else fails, De Guzman aims to mobilize workers who support the campaign.
“Kung kinakailangan buhatin ‘yong mga manggagawa ang Senado ay ipapabuhat ko sa kanila para itaktak ‘yong ayaw maki-simpatiya sa mga manggagawa. Kung kailangan papalibutan yong Kongreso, katukin ‘yong mga congressmen, ay ipapakatok ko sa mga tao. Yon ang gagawin ko.”
(If the labourers need to carry the Senate, I will let them so that they can get rid of those who cannot sympathize with them. If the Congress needs to be surrounded and the congressmen need to be knocked, I will let the people do that. That is what I will do.)
From working student to factory worker to presidential aspirant for labour rights and welfare, Ka Leody de Guzman continues to fight against structures that deliver blow after blow to the dignities of students, workers, and human beings.
He also addressed the misinterpretation that he’s just for labour. “Pag sinabi kong labour, hindi lang ito ‘yong mga manggagawa sa pabrika, ‘yong mga nasa kompanya, kundi ang ibig naming sabihin diyan ay ‘yong mga tao na kinakailangang magtrabaho para mabuhay.”
(When I talk about labour, I’m not just referring to factory workers or people in companies, but we are talking about every person who needs to work to keep on living.)
The De Guzman-Bello tandem shared that they want to legalize divorce, decriminalize abortion, and allow same-sex marriage. They also want to reorganize the economy to meet domestic needs, promote transformative social protection, and push for climate justice.
As for when the rest of the population will join De Guzman, the answer is still blowing in the wind.
Recommended Song: Blowin’ In The Wind - Bob Dylan
Images from Ka Leody de Guzman’s Team and Facebook Page