bbandonell | 8 May 2025 (rewrite), London

The Constitution, as Justice Scalia famously and correctly remarked, was designed not to facilitate change, but to impede it—to slow the passions of the moment and insulate the enduring structure of government from passing fancy. It is not a vessel for aspiration but a fender against entropy. It does not promise better government; it ensures lawful government. In this light, the exercise of suffrage is not a ritual of popular sentiment—it is an institutional act governed by rules, designed to preserve a constitutional order. When that act is corrupted, cheapened, or turned into farce, the damage is not merely political—it is constitutional.

One need not look far to observe that elections in the Philippines have become increasingly performative, transactional, and—let us not mince words—absurd. The right to vote is revered in speech and ignored in substance. Candidates are assessed not for principle, but for pedigree; not for policy, but for popularity. The ballot has been demoted from instrument of deliberation to token of identity. In a functioning republic, elections serve as the primary means of institutional accountability. In ours, they resemble a personality contest with public funds as prizes. The system is not broken by accident—it is broken by habit.

And that habit is not benign. It is cultivated, monetized, and defended. The law prohibits vote-buying with absolute clarity. Section 261(a) of the Omnibus Election Code does not stammer: giving, offering, or promising money or value to influence voting behavior is an offense. Period. No comma, no exception. Yet in practice, this provision is treated less like law and more like folklore—cited, ignored, and ultimately forgotten. The problem is not one of ambiguity, but impunity. The statute may as well be printed in disappearing ink. The electorate, meanwhile, has learned that electoral participation can mean economic transaction, and worse, that such participation is both expected and excused. What the Constitution treats as a breach of public trust, the political class treats as a campaign strategy.

This is not, as some would conveniently claim, an unavoidable byproduct of poverty. It is a product of sustained institutional neglect. Vote-buying persists because enforcement is weak, not because poverty is strong. It is tolerated because those in power benefit from tolerating it. If this were merely a case of desperate citizens trading votes for food, the solution would be social welfare. But it is not. It is, in many cases, a willful exchange—one that reflects the rot not of hunger, but of habit.

Even the Supreme Court, in its better moments, has acknowledged that elections must reflect the “true will of the people.” But that phrase, however noble, has become increasingly difficult to define. What is the “true will” of a people whose political understanding is mediated by disinformation, whose choices are shaped by algorithm, whose civic decisions are determined by memes? In the age of social media, fact and falsehood operate on equal footing. Narratives are manufactured by trolls and bots, and then laundered by repetition into public belief. What was once a marketplace of ideas has become a carnival of illusion. The will of the people, in such a setting, is not ascertained—it is engineered.

And the history is not silent. The 2004 “Hello Garci” scandal, which revealed a disturbing pattern of electoral manipulation at the highest levels, remains an unresolved stain on our democratic fabric. It exposed not only the ease with which elections could be subverted but also the institutional inertia that allowed it. Like a wound left untreated, its consequences festered: a public desensitized to fraud, and a political culture acclimated to cheating. That incident was not merely a scandal—it was a systemic revelation.

And yet the gravest danger does not lie with the corrupt politician or the misinformed voter. It lies with the knowing bystander—the educated citizen who sees the decay and chooses detachment over duty. There exists a class of citizens well-versed in the law, literate in civic history, and yet indifferent to electoral participation. They scoff at candidates, decry institutions, lament the loss of public virtue—but do not vote. Or if they do, they do so sporadically, cynically, as if the act were a mere courtesy. But the Constitution does not assume perfection; it assumes participation. Those who know the stakes but refuse to act bear a special responsibility for the republic’s decline. They are not neutral; they are complicit.

The Constitution commands that political dynasties be prohibited “as may be defined by law.” That law has never been passed. The reason is not mystery; it is arithmetic. Congress is occupied, to a disquieting extent, by dynasts. To expect this Congress to outlaw political dynasties is to expect a fox to write security protocols for the henhouse. That is not cynicism. That is math. And yet the constitutional command remains. Its continued neglect is not just a political failure—it is a constitutional violation.

There is here an analogy, as in the interpretation of constitutional text. Originalism, as Justice Scalia often argued, anchors meaning to the text’s original public understanding—an understanding that restricts discretion and forestalls innovation. The anti-dynasty provision, like the Constitution itself, means what it meant when it was adopted. When lawmakers persistently refuse to act on that mandate, it is not an interpretive gap—it is defiance. In this light, the failure to legislate is not omission; it is subversion.

And so, what must be done? Not merely what can be done—what must be done. First, the enforcement of vote-buying laws must become a constitutional priority, not an electoral afterthought. This requires institutional overhaul: COMELEC must be given prosecutorial authority, a ring-fenced budget, and the power to act motu proprio. The current reactive model—where investigations depend on external complaints—is structurally doomed to fail. Second, the anti-dynasty provision must be legislated with precise definitions and teeth—meaning real, disqualifying consequences. Let its constitutionality be challenged. That is how constitutional democracy works: by enforcing commands, not evading them.

Third, campaign finance must be radically reformed. Digitized, real-time disclosures, subject to third-party audits and accessible to the public, are not technical luxuries—they are constitutional guarantees of transparency. This is not about modernization. It is about legitimacy. Fourth, electoral disinformation must be treated as a form of constitutional sabotage. This is not merely about truth and falsehood. It is about whether the people can meaningfully consent to their government when their consent is manipulated.

Finally, legal and civic education must be reimagined. A republic can survive poor leaders. It cannot survive a populace that does not understand how leadership is chosen. Teaching the mechanics of the vote is not enough. We must teach its meaning, its stakes, and its fragility. Every classroom must become a training ground for stewardship.

These are not reforms. They are remedies—remedies to a sickness that, left unchecked, will render the constitutional body politic unrecognizable. The ballot is not a bet. It is not a prize. It is not a favor. It is the mechanism by which a free people appoint their stewards, and revoke their mandates. If it is treated as entertainment, the consequences will not be entertaining. If it is treated as transaction, the price will be paid in liberty. We cannot claim the benefits of constitutional government while discarding its disciplines. The Constitution endures, not because it is sacred, but because it is enforced. And enforcement, in a democracy, begins not in the courtroom, but in the polling place.

To govern is to choose. To choose well is to understand. And to understand is to remember that in a republic, sovereignty belongs to the people—but only for as long as they are willing to wield it.

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References

1987 Constitution of the Republic of the Philippines. (1987). https://www.officialgazette.gov.ph/constitutions/1987-constitution/

Banaga, Jr. v. Commission on Elections and Florencio M. Bernabe, Jr., G.R. No. 127734 (1998).

Hamilton, A. (1961). The Federalist No. 68 (C. Rossiter, Ed.). Penguin Books.

Omnibus Election Code, Batas Pambansa Blg. 881 (1985).

Scalia, A. (1997). A Matter of Interpretation: Federal Courts and the Law. Princeton University Press.

Story, J. (1851). Commentaries on the Constitution of the United States (Vol. 1, 2nd ed.). Little, Brown.

Jefferson, T. (1954). In J.P. Boyd (Ed.), The Papers of Thomas Jefferson (Vol. 10). Princeton University Press.

Pamatong v. Commission on Elections, G.R. No. 161872 (2004).

Burson v. Freeman, 504 U.S. 191 (1992).