A History of Typhoons
It was December 2018 when, as is typical at this time of year, typhoons (the Asian equivalent of hurricanes) struck Southeast Asia (Pacific Ocean), bringing extreme rain and storms.
As it happened, a friend of mine was in the tourist area of El Nido, Philippines, at the wrong time and in the wrong place.
Typhoons, like any other force of nature, have a deadly impact on both developed countries (such as South Korea) and developing countries (such as the Philippines). The latter typically have less infrastructure, fewer public services—in short, fewer resources.
This friend says that, during the days of the typhoon—which usually last several days—the rain fell with such intensity and in such abundance that the streets (which lack storm drains) turned into rivers, cars into canoes, and pedestrians into swimmers. All of this happened almost literally (beyond the metaphorical sense).
Coincidentally, the tourist recounts, one of the last days of the typhoon was the day he was scheduled to fly to another country. In other words, first of all, he had to get to the airport. And second, the weather conditions had to be suitable for the plane to take off.
That day, the story continues, when the rain let up a bit, the expedition set off for the airport. The van hired for the trip took every detour it could until the unexpected (or perhaps not so unexpected) happened. On one of the city’s main roads, on the way to the airport, there was a water channel that was impossible for an ordinary car to cross. As time went on, several vehicles became stuck in the same spot.
After a couple of hours, the cavalry finally arrived.
The Philippine Armed Forces had to take charge of the situation and, with the help of light armored vehicles and trucks with wheels larger than the standard size for civilian vehicles, transported everyone directly to the airport.
The scene combined a touch of tragedy, salvation, and a sense of war.
A History of Taxes and Duties
Beyond the drama, the anecdote contains a simple yet quite revealing story.
The Philippine Armed Forces' intervention to save the day represents many things, but—for the purposes of this analysis—primarily one: the national budget of the Republic of the Philippines.
How much does it cost the Philippine government to intervene in these types of situations and mobilize its armed forces to resolve the problem caused by a storm? In other words, how much does it cost for tourists to have “the right” to access this type of government assistance?
The answer to both of these questions has been carefully examined by Stephen Holmes and Cass Sunstein in the book “The Cost of Rights” [1], in which they analyze and argue why freedom (or rights, in general) depend—almost literally—on the payment of taxes.
The logic behind Holmes and Sunstein’s thesis is very simple. The text of the laws contains catchphrases such as the “right to education” or the “right to security” which, while they sound encouraging, in empirical reality depend almost inexorably on the state budget and public spending related to each right.
Similarly, the right to education depends on how much the government is spending (or investing) in the national education system. The right to education means very little if the government does not allocate resources to pay teachers and build new schools. Similarly, the right to security will be more or less effective depending on the extent to which the government allocates funds to train the National Police to protect its citizens, and so on.
The other side of the coin, of course, is the source of these funds. In a country like ours, the main (though not the only) source of public finances is taxpayers’ contributions through taxes. This flow of funds is subsequently transformed, through the democratic process of the National Congress, into the General National Budget, which each year involves a clash of interests associated with the various areas in which it must be allocated.
This concept—once again—has a simple but quite specific meaning. The counterpart to the rule of law is efficient public spending. Without resources, it is not possible to effectively protect rights.
These ideas also apply to Paraguay. The most recent National General Budget (2025) was set at G. 133,210,000 million (approximately USD 18,500 million). Of this total, in theory, the National Constitution stipulates that no less than 3 % must be allocated to the Judiciary, and no less than 20 % to education. Based on these figures, if constitutional provisions were followed (which is not always the case), the Paraguayan government would have approximately USD 555 million available for an efficient justice system. Additionally, it would have an estimated USD 3,700 million for education. All of this, of course, assumes that the budget is fully implemented and free of corruption.
For these reasons (and perhaps others as well), Paraguay ranks at the bottom of global education and justice system rankings[2].
Finally, before we start talking about “we have the right to…,” we should carefully review the resources we are investing to ensure that the letter of the law becomes a reality. Otherwise, we’ll find ourselves drowning in streets flooded with water—a consequence of typhoons and wasteful public spending.
Partner
[1] S. Holmes, C. Sunstein; “The Cost of Rights – Why Freedom Depends on Taxes”; Siglo Veintiuno Editores, Buenos Aires (2012)
[2] Justice: Paraguay ranks 100th out of 140 countries; https://worldjusticeproject.org/rule-of-law-index/global
Education: Paraguay ranks near the bottom of the OECD's PISA report;https://blogs.iadb.org/educacion/es/pruebas-pisa-2022-america-latina-caribe/
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