Police and Politicians Protect Jueteng
SOMEWHERE IN PANGASINAN
THE INTIMATE relationship between jueteng and politics is best demonstrated in this town where the local jueteng lord comes from the same family that has controlled municipal political office for several decades.

The family has been able to survive various regime changes—from the pre-Marcos era to martial law to the Aquino and Ramos administrations—through a combination of deeply entrenched familial and compadrazco linkages with various barangay officials, patronage, and skillfully built alliances with provincial and national officials.

Jueteng is also part of the family's political arsenal. Since the 1970s, the clan has been able to use the earnings and the grassroots network of the illegal numbers game to perpetuate itself in power .

Politics here is intertwined with the jueteng structure. The gambling network, based on a hierarchical system of cabos (supervisors) and cobradores (collectors), does more than collect bets or deliver winnings. It is also an A-1 source of up-to-date political intelligence and a ready-made machinery for election mobilization. In addition, jueteng money contributes not just to campaign coffers but to a social welfare fund administered by the political family.

Sonny runs a network of over 2,000 cobradores or collectors who go around the villages to collect bets of as low as P1 each. Each cobrador has a quota, at least P100 worth of bets every day. The collectors form groups of five to ten cobradores called PLOPs. Efficient PLOPs get a share of their collection for operational expenses like paper, pencils and transportation.

Each PLOP reports to a cabo, a supervisor who gathers the collections. Sonny has 80 to 90 cabos under his command; they are trusted individuals who have earned a reputation in their communities for being able to deliver efficiently and honestly. Trusted cabos get either a regular salary or percentage from the collection, regular incentives or bonuses, social security in the form of emergency loans, and protection from the harassment of law enforcers.

The cabos in turn report to a table manager, who supervises the draw. At the top of this hierarchy is Sonny, the town's jueteng lord.

This grassroots-based network is crucial to the game. Unlike casino gambling which earns from prohibitive entrance fees and high stakes, jueteng depends on a large number of bettors, no matter the amount they bet. The odds in jueteng are high: a bettor chooses two numbers from 1 to 37. The winner gets the pot if he chooses the right pair of numbers from one of 1,369 (37 x 37) possible combinations. Cabos and collectors ensure the lucrativeness of the game by taking as many bets as possible.

Sonny put his cabo-cobrador machinery at the disposal of his first cousin, the mayor who ran for re-election in May 1995. Through the jueteng network, the candidate was able to check on the implementation of backroom political deals between himself and his allies. He also used this machinery to monitor the shifting loyalties of barangay captains and ward leaders and to keep track of the vote-buying rates and schemes of his rivals.

But the jueteng network is not like a military command. The cabos and the cobradores often have mixed loyalties, and they may choose to be slack in their obedience to the gambling lord.

Source of Patronage
To Sonny's family, however, jueteng is more than just a political machine, it is also a source of funds. Sonny nets up to P1.2 million a month from jueteng. Part of the proceeds goes to a nightspot in Dagupan City that imports the latest "models" from Metro Manila. (This nightspot however, did not become lucrative, as Sonny's brothers and bodyguards often monopolized the "models," depriving other patrons.)

But a significant amount of the funds also goes to "development patronage." Jueteng money has been used for livelihood and infrastructure projects. It is also given out as abuloy (donations to the needy) and used in the construction of community artesian wells and basketball courts and a host of other donations expected of a political family but not provided for in the regular municipal budget.

Sonny, in fact, invested part of his profits in the cementing of a chapel. The parish priest had asked him for help to cement the stairs and the walls. But Sonny felt that it would be better to include the floor of the chapel, which of course pleased the parish priest all the more. The priest had no moral qualms about this. In fact, he had won several tens of thousands from a jueteng draw held in 1994.

Jueteng money is also an important source of election capital. In the 1995 elections, when the family's rival spent P1 to two million to buy votes in the last three days of the campaign, Sonny's cousin topped the offer, thanks to jueteng.

Equally important, jueteng funds are a source of political maneuverability and allow the family to remain fiercely independent from pressures of provincial and national politicians. Sonny G.'s political family does not have any large corporations or extensive landholdings. The family's lifestyle is much more akin to that of the middle to upper-middle class in Metro Manila.

But during elections, the family prefers not to depend on contributions from provincial or national politicians. In fact, the clan decides to support a candidate not on the basis of how much he is willing to contribute, but on cunning and careful political calculations of his prospects for victory.

Money contributed by candidates is often respectfully returned, say members of Sonny's family. This reputation not only increases the family's political stock, it also makes for a subtle way of doing politics, where loyalties are established on a more long-term basis. Supporting a candidate without financial incentive marks an open debt that can be paid back in a much better way once that candidate has won. The family knows that utang na loob is a stronger bond than money that has been exchanged for services delivered, clan members say.

Jueteng funds also serve as a safety net for the family. With continually flowing gambling money, it can readily replenish exhausted coffers after an election. As one member of Sonny's staff explained, "OK lang gumastos nang malaki sa panahon ng eleksiyon, puwede naman bawiin ito sa jueteng pagkatapos ng eleksiyon (It's okay for us to spend during an election, because we can always recoup our losses once jueteng profits come in)."

The Downside of Jueteng
But despite its political advantages, jueteng has its pitfalls. For one, it has been used by rivals to cast the family in a bad light. Although Sonny's family has managed to prevail against challengers, it does not always get its way.

Sonny himself is the best example. He recently ran for local office, but despite his access to jueteng's money and its grassroots network, he lost the election, a defeat which local pundits attributed to a weakening of the family's influence in certain areas.

There are also limits to expanding jueteng beyond the municipality. This is often circumscribed by relationships with mayors in adjoining municipalities. Jueteng requires an intimate relationship with the incumbent mayor. It cannot survive in an area dominated by a hostile mayor, unless of course, the jueteng lord has more powerful connections to the congressman, governor, or provincial commander.

Jueteng tends to be on the side of the incumbents, says Sonny. In cases where there is a strong opposition, the jueteng lord usually invests in both. The politics of acquiring support from a jueteng lord is quite simple: a strong opposition candidate need only intimidate the gambling operator and warn of more effective anti-jueteng campaigns if he wins.

In rare cases, the jueteng lord may choose to suspend operations during the campaign. This sends a clear signal to the incumbent that the jueteng lord is withdrawing support. More often, however, the jueteng lord would invest in both. Anyway, the politician will never know whether his rival also got a similar if not bigger amount, says a family member.

Sonny's familial affinities put him in a better position than other gambling lords in Pangasinan. However, even if powerful family connections allow gambling lords of his type to maintain impenetrable beachheads in towns like this one, they are also beholden to higher loyalties.

The term "jueteng lord" is therefore in a sense a misnomer, for the logic of jueteng and the countless negotiations its leaders undertake with politicians and law-enforcement officials is just part of the process of contesting claims to leadership by various political families. The jueteng lord is not omnipotent: these engagements and negotiations limit his power.

But, ironically, they also ensure his survival. These relationships are the main reasons why jueteng in Pangasinan has survived a series of anti-gambling campaigns launched by the national government.

There is another reason for jueteng's impenetrability. This has to do with the "culture" of jueteng. It is also this "culture" which predisposes jueteng toward engagement with politics.

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