In the Philippines, the party-list system, enshrined in the 1987 Constitution, was once heralded as a mechanism to diversify congressional representation. Yet, as evidenced by the recent support of Angkas riders for the Angkasangga Party-list during its filing of nomination on 5 October 2024, and a damning report from poll watchdog Kontra Daya, the system has strayed far from any idealistic roots. Instead of amplifying the voices of the marginalised, it has become a tool for political dynasties and powerful interests to consolidate influence, raising urgent questions about the need for reform.
A System Designed for Diversity, Not the Disadvantaged
At its inception, the party-list system aimed to allocate 20 percent of seats in the House of Representatives to smaller political groups, offering a counterbalance to the dominance of traditional political families. The Constitution initially reserved half of these seats for sectors such as labour, peasants, urban poor, indigenous communities, women, and youth, but only for the first three elections following the Charter’s ratification in 1987. After 1995, the system opened to all, a decision rooted in the belief that marginalised groups would have established constituencies by then to compete on equal footing.
This assumption, however, proved naive. Without safeguards to prevent infiltration by entrenched elites, the system was quickly co-opted. A pivotal 2013 Supreme Court ruling further eroded its original intent by clarifying that party-list groups need not represent marginalised sectors exclusively. As former election chief Christian Monsod noted at the time, the system was “not synonymous with sectoral representation” (Philippine Daily Inquirer, April 2013). By 2018, Monsod himself admitted the experiment had been “bastardized badly” by the Commission on Elections (Comelec) and judicial interpretations. 
The result is a system that, rather than challenging the ruling elite, often serves their interests. The party-list mechanism, intended to enhance diversity in Congress, has instead become a backdoor for political dynasties and big business to secure additional seats, exploiting the lack of barriers to entry.
Kontra Daya’s Alarming Findings
A recent report by Kontra Daya, released in early February 2025, paints a stark picture of how far the system has deviated from any notion of representing the underprivileged. The watchdog found that 55 percent of party-list groups vying for seats in the upcoming May elections are tied to political dynasties, corporate giants, or military and police interests. Some even face pending corruption cases or lack transparency in their advocacy.
Kontra Daya convenor Danilo Arao highlighted that at least two groups have nominated spouses, in-laws, or siblings of established political clans, leveraging local strongholds to secure the roughly 200,000 votes needed for a congressional seat. Seven others, leading in recent Social Weather Stations surveys, also have documented links to those in power. These findings are not anomalies but symptoms of a system functioning as designed—a free-for-all that disproportionately benefits the already powerful.
The case of Angkasangga Party-list, supported by Angkas riders as reported by the Philippine Daily Inquirer on 5 October 2024, exemplifies the complexities of this landscape. While ostensibly representing a specific sector—motorcycle ride-hailing drivers—questions linger about whether such groups genuinely advocate for the marginalised or serve as vehicles for broader political agendas. Without rigorous oversight, the line between authentic representation and opportunistic politicking remains blurred.
Historical Context: A Dream Deferred
To understand the current state of the party-list system, one must revisit the debates of the 1987 Constitutional Commission. Some framers, including the late Jesuit priest Joaquin Bernas, envisioned it as a tool for social justice, ensuring permanent proportional representation for the poor and disadvantaged. Their vision, however, was overruled by a majority who prioritised a broader, less sector-specific approach. The resulting 1995 Party-List System Act reflected this compromise, ultimately failing to prioritise the underrepresented despite public perceptions to the contrary.
The absence of mechanisms to protect the system from exploitation by political elites has had lasting consequences. As early as the late 1990s, observers noted the infiltration of party-list seats by groups with ties to traditional power structures. By the 2010s, the trend was undeniable, culminating in the Supreme Court’s 2013 decision that effectively legitimised the participation of non-marginalised entities.
This historical trajectory underscores a bitter irony: the party-list system, often romanticised as a voice for the voiceless, was never explicitly designed to be so. Its framers sought diversity in representation over targeted empowerment, a choice that left the door open for the very dynasties and interest groups it might have opposed.
Calls for Reform Amid Scepticism
The mounting evidence of systemic abuse has fuelled calls for reform. Senate President Francis Escudero recently urged a re-examination of the party-list law, arguing that the original intent of the framers has been undermined by both legislation and judicial rulings. Yet, as critics point out, there was no subversion—the system’s flaws are inherent, baked into its design from the start. The Constitution’s framers prioritised equal access over protective measures for the disadvantaged, a decision that has proven detrimental to those furthest behind.
Escudero’s push for reform raises a critical question: can Congress, dominated by the same elites who benefit from the status quo, be trusted to enact meaningful change? The party-list system, as it stands, perfectly suits the interests of many lawmakers, offering additional avenues for influence through allied groups. Repealing or revising the law would require a rare act of selflessness, prioritising the public good over personal or familial gain.
If reform is to succeed, it must address the core deficiencies of the system. Proposals might include stricter criteria for party-list eligibility, ensuring representation of genuinely marginalised sectors, and robust mechanisms to prevent nominations tied to political dynasties or corporate interests. Transparency in funding and advocacy could also deter groups with dubious motives from participating. Without such measures, any overhaul risks being cosmetic, preserving the system’s utility for the powerful under a new guise.
Broader Implications for Philippine Democracy
The failings of the party-list system reflect broader challenges within Philippine democracy, where entrenched elites often shape political structures to perpetuate their dominance. The system’s hijacking by dynasties and interest groups mirrors patterns seen in local governance, where family names and patronage networks frequently dictate electoral outcomes. This dynamic stifles genuine representation, marginalising communities whose voices are most in need of amplification.
Moreover, the erosion of the party-list system’s purpose undermines public trust in democratic institutions. When mechanisms meant to diversify representation are co-opted by the powerful, cynicism grows, further alienating citizens from the political process. If left unaddressed, this disillusionment could fuel populist movements or extralegal forms of dissent, posing risks to stability in a nation already grappling with economic inequality and social unrest.
A Conditional Path Forward
Looking ahead, the potential for reform hinges on political will—a scarce commodity in a Congress shaped by self-interest. If lawmakers were to prioritise the public over personal gain, a revised party-list system could yet become a tool for genuine representation. Stricter eligibility rules, coupled with Comelec’s rigorous enforcement, might limit the influence of dynasties and corporate interests. However, such outcomes remain speculative; there is no evidence to suggest that the current political climate favours transformative change over incremental adjustments that preserve the status quo.
The onus also falls on civil society and watchdog groups like Kontra Daya to sustain pressure for accountability. Public awareness campaigns could shift voter behaviour, encouraging support for party-list groups with authentic ties to marginalised sectors rather than those backed by familiar political names. Yet, without systemic barriers to elite infiltration, such efforts may yield limited impact.
Conclusion: A System in Need of Redemption
The Philippines’ party-list system stands as a cautionary tale of well-intentioned policy undermined by structural flaws and unchecked power. Designed to diversify congressional representation, it has instead become a vehicle for the elite, as Kontra Daya’s findings and historical analysis make clear. The support for groups like Angkasangga Party-list highlights both the system’s potential and its vulnerabilities—potential to represent niche sectors, and vulnerabilities to exploitation absent rigorous oversight.
Reform is not merely desirable but essential if the system is to fulfil even a fraction of its original promise. Yet, as George Orwell’s adage reminds us, in a political landscape where some are “more equal than others,” the path to equity remains fraught. Whether Congress can rise above self-interest to redraw the lines of representation is a question that looms large over the nation’s democratic future. For now, the party-list system remains a failed experiment, awaiting either redemption or replacement.
