RESPONSIBILITY OF THE PUBLIC ADMINISTRATOR

By Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD

When I was a Municipal Councilor of San Mateo, Rizal

When I first entered public service, I was idealistic. I believed that holding a title—whether as a councilor, dean, or adviser—automatically meant that people would trust me, and I could use my position to make things better. But very early in my journey, I realized something powerful: responsibility isn’t just a function of the office you hold; it’s the character you bring to it.

In theory, the term “responsibility” sounds noble. We often throw it around in speeches— “responsible governance,” “public responsibility,” or “ethical responsibility.” But ask anyone on the street to define it, and most will struggle. Why? Because responsibility is less about words and more about choices—especially the ones we make when no one is watching.

Public administrators, like myself, are expected to be guided by the rule of law—a fundamental doctrine in any democracy. That rule gives us the basic standards to make decisions: is it legal, fair, and within the bounds of policy? It sounds simple, but in reality, it’s complicated—because people expect us not just to follow rules but to do what’s right. And “right” is not always clearly written in the law.

Take, for instance, my time consulting for various government agencies. There were moments when the written policy didn’t fully capture the needs of the people in a particular barangay or region. In such cases, I had to weigh legality with empathy—and that is where responsibility takes on a deeper meaning. It’s not only about doing what you’re told but also doing what your conscience tells you.

But here’s where we often get confused: responsibility and accountability are not the same.

Accountability is formal. It answers the question: Who answers to whom? In the government, we are accountable in a hierarchy—a chain of command. A department head answers to the president, a bureau director answers to the secretary, and so on. It’s legal, institutional, and written in black and white. For instance, when something goes wrong in a government agency, we often look at the person on top and say, “He should be held accountable.”

Responsibility, on the other hand, is personal and moral. It answers the deeper question: Am I doing the right thing, even if no one tells me to? That’s the heart of it.

Let me share a reflection from history. When the Watergate scandal broke out in the 1970s, President Nixon claimed he wasn’t legally accountable for what his aides did. He didn’t order the break-in, he argued. And that was technically true. But morally? People expected more. As the leader, even if he didn’t give the command, the responsibility for creating that kind of culture — for turning a blind eye — ultimately fell on him. Responsibility runs deeper than accountability.

The same applies to many levels of government today. A mayor can delegate tasks to department heads. But when a tragedy happens — let’s say, during a typhoon — and relief goods are mismanaged, the public doesn’t just blame the clerk who lost the inventory sheet. They look at the mayor and ask, “Why didn’t you know?” Why? Because responsibility isn’t something you can delegate completely. It percolates, like coffee, all the way from top to bottom — and back up again.

But here’s the painful truth: our system often makes real responsibility harder to track. With more than a hundred agencies, offices, and layers of bureaucracy, no president or secretary can truly monitor every single action. It’s impossible. You trust your people. You delegate. And yet, the expectation of accountability still rests on your shoulders.

And so, a gap appears.

This is where problems begin. When real responsibility is blurry and legal accountability is spread too thin, it’s easy for the system to become a facade. A commissioner of a regulatory board might publicly say he acts in the “public interest”—while ”behind the scenes, he’s bending to the will of private lobbyists or special interest groups. This is when government loses credibility. This is when people stop believing.

I’ve seen this happen, and it’s heartbreaking. When the people no longer trust that their leaders are truly acting for them — not just legally, but morally—democracy suffers.

We need to be clear-eyed about the limits of accountability in our current system. But we must also recognize the power of personal responsibility to fill in those gaps. In every decision, especially in the gray areas where rules don’t provide clear answers, the individual character of a public servant makes the difference.

As a former public official, educator, and adviser, I’ve always reminded young leaders: Even if you’re not the head of the department, you still carry the responsibility to act with integrity. Even if you’re “just a staff” — your signature, your action, or your silence could affect thousands.

Responsibility isn’t just for the powerful. It belongs to every single one of us.

And this is where hope lives.

Because unlike titles or roles, which can be taken away, our sense of responsibility is something we can choose to carry every day. It’s in how we answer emails, write reports, attend meetings, or make decisions that no one may ever see. It’s in the courage to ask, “Is this right?” even when others are silent.

So yes, responsibility may be a nebulous word. But its power becomes clear in the smallest actions of those who carry it with humility.

I believe that if we want real change in our public institutions, we need more than reform — we need a cultural revival of personal moral responsibility in governance. Because in the end, true accountability starts not in laws or policies, but in the hearts of those entrusted with power.

And if we—as educators, citizens, or public servants—commit to that kind of responsibility, then perhaps we won’t just repair systems. We’ll rebuild trust.

One decision at a time.