WHAT ARE WELLNESS CHECKS IN POLICE ACTIONS?

WHAT ARE WELLNESS CHECKS IN POLICE ACTIONS?

Wellness checks—also known as welfare checks—sound like a good idea on paper. In principle, they are meant to ensure that someone is safe and well, especially if they’ve been unreachable or are suspected to be in distress. But in practice, we’ve seen how such interventions can be abused, particularly when there are no safeguards, no documentation, and no accountability.

A wellness check, properly done, is a humanitarian act. It begins when a concerned friend, neighbor, or relative calls the authorities because someone has not been seen or heard from for days. The goal is to confirm that the person is alive, safe, and not in a medical or emotional crisis. Police officers (or barangay officials, in the Philippine context) visit the home, knock, and if there’s no response, they may lawfully enter—but only when there’s reasonable belief that something is wrong.

In many countries, wellness checks have evolved to include not just police officers but also social workers, mental health professionals, and even volunteer responders. This interdisciplinary approach reduces the risk of escalation and ensures that compassion, not coercion, is the guiding principle.

Unfortunately, in the Philippines, we’ve had a painful reminder of how easily such a concept can be twisted. “Tokhang”—a portmanteau of toktok-hangyo (knock and plead)—was originally framed as a community-based approach to persuade drug users to surrender. But what started as a kind of “welfare visit” turned into one of the most controversial and deadly police operations in modern Philippine history. Thousands died, often without warrant, witness, or due process.

It’s a textbook example of how the lack of transparency and oversight can turn a preventive measure into a punitive one. Welfare checks are supposed to protect life, not end it.

So, what can be done?

First, there must be clear written authorization for every welfare check. Whether the request comes from a family member, a barangay health worker, or the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD), it must be logged. There must be a record of who initiated the check, why it was done, who participated, and what the outcome was.

Second, there must be multi-sectoral participation. A Barangay Wellness Team should include not only the police but also health workers, social workers, and mental health advocates. The police should only be secondary responders, not the lead agents. Their presence should be for safety, not intimidation.

Third, there must be accountability and traceability. Every wellness check should produce a written report, signed by at least two responders and, when possible, the person being checked on. These reports should go into a secure database accessible to oversight bodies.

Here’s where I believe blockchain technology could play a role. Imagine a digital ledger where every welfare check—its authorization, timestamp, and report—is recorded permanently, impossible to alter or erase. Such a system could deter abuse and ensure that any misconduct leaves a permanent digital footprint. Blockchain-based timestamping, when integrated with barangay systems, could make local governance more transparent and tamper-proof.

Fourth, there should be oversight and grievance mechanisms. A Barangay Wellness Oversight Committee, composed of civil society representatives, cooperatives, and faith-based groups, should regularly review welfare check reports. Any complaints of unlawful entry, excessive force, or privacy violation must trigger investigation under the Writ of Amparo or Writ of Habeas Data.

Legally speaking, welfare checks in the Philippines fall under the State’s police power—the inherent authority to protect life, health, and public welfare. This power is grounded in the Constitution:

• Article II, Section 5 emphasizes peace, order, and the protection of life and property;
  
  

• Section 15 commits the State to promote health and well-being.
  The Local Government Code (RA 7160) further empowers barangays and LGUs to take preventive actions in the name of public safety.
  
  

But just because something is lawful doesn’t mean it’s ethical. Welfare checks, after all, involve entering someone’s private space—sometimes forcibly—and potentially intervening in their life. That’s why consent, privacy, and proportionality must always be observed.

In many progressive cities abroad, mental health crisis calls are now handled by community response teams rather than armed officers. In Oregon and California, for instance, social workers and medics respond first, while police only intervene if there’s a real threat of violence. It’s a model that could work here, especially in barangays with existing health and social welfare structures.

The goal should be to transform wellness checks from police operations into community care responses. This would align with the spirit of our laws—protecting life, promoting health, and upholding human dignity.

If implemented right, wellness checks could save lives—of the elderly living alone, of the mentally distressed, of those silently suffering behind closed doors. But without safeguards, they could once again become a tool of abuse.

So, yes—let’s conduct wellness checks. But let’s also check on the wellness of the system itself. Are we doing it out of care, or out of control? Are we protecting life, or merely enforcing authority?

Perhaps the ultimate welfare check we need today is not on individuals—but on our institutions.

Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com 03-14-2026