Dear Editor,
In Palau today, there is a silent but growing cost to public governance, one that hides behind protocols, ceremonies, and appointments, but seldom receives the critical scrutiny our ancestors would have demanded. Our national and state boards, whether it be the Palau Visitors Authority (PVA), the Social Security Administration (SSA), or the Palau National Communications Corporation (PNCC) are increasingly seen not as engines of strategy and oversight, but as relics of political convenience. They are expensive fixtures in the architecture of government and the time has come to ask:Do they still serve their intended purpose or have they become symbols of outdated structures, repainted and renamed, but hollow at the core?
Some board members accrue more than $90,000 a year in combined travel and training expenses. This is often justified under the banner of “capacity building,” “international networking,” or “regional representation.” But what measurable impact returns to the citizens of Palau? Where are the reports, innovations, or policy shifts that prove that these costly ventures are yielding our return of investment? This is not an indictment of individuals who serve. Many have given their time, experience, and knowledge in good faith.
This is, instead, a critique, a call to transform the structure of our boards from political placeholders into institutions of technical merit and strategic foresight. Boards do not perform daily operations, that’s what the CEO and staff are for, they develop policies so the CEO and staff can implement them. Just like our last argument about OEK and Executive branches of our government.
What if membership on the SSA Board requires a degree in finance, economics, or actuarial science? What if the PNCC Board included cybersecurity professionals, telecom policy analysts, and digital infrastructure planners? Why should representation be based on who one knows rather than what one knows? Palauan society is not devoid of experts; we simply fail to elevate them. Young professionals with advanced degrees, innovators in tech, entrepreneurs, health specialists, and data analysts often sit on the sidelines while board appointments are given based on kinship, campaign loyalty, or perceived seniority. This pattern is not sustainable, especially when Palau faces compounding pressures: an aging and decreasing population, rising health costs, cost of living, digital transformation, and the existential threat of climate crisis.
In political science they speak of ANTICIPATORY GOVERNANCE, preparing today for the uncertainties of tomorrow. That means building adaptive systems, investing in relevant expertise, and creating feedback mechanisms that measure performance and outcomes. None of our current boards have published strategic foresight assessments or long-range scenario planning documents. Most lack performance evaluation frameworks. And yet, the public pays for their upkeep.
We must begin asking hard questions. What is the return on investment for board travel and training? What decisions have been made that shape national policy for the better? Who is responsible for evaluating performance and outcomes?
Rather than continue with a model that benefits the few, we could imagine a reallocation of those same funds. What if, instead of sending the same people to overseas conferences year after year, we created a “Futures Fellowship” a national fund for young Palauan professionals to study, learn, and return with new tools to serve the country? We could sponsor emerging leaders in medicine, digital technology, business innovation, and climate science. Why not send our youth, those with ideas, products, and dreams, to global expos and innovation fairs, so they can bring something real back home?
We must also return to our values. In Palauan tradition, leadership is not just about sitting at the top. It is having the heart and wisdom to guide others. Boards must be designed not as rewards, but as responsibilities; not as social clubs, but as working bodies grounded in accountability and purpose.
Our national vision must be measured not only by who sits at the table, but by what the table is built for. If boards continue to function as rubber stamps or expensive symbols of power, then we must ask, with courage and clarity: Are they still necessary? And if not, how might we design something better, something that reflects the dreams of our youth, the needs of our people, and the responsibilities we owe to the generations yet to come?
Your Humble Servant
Al Kahalic