More Seats, Less Sense

In a few years, Iloilo City will likely gain a second congressional district—not because Rep. Julienne Baronda filed a bill or the House prioritized it, but because the 2025 census will leave us no choice.

That’s how our Constitution works: for every 250,000 people, one representative. It is a rule rooted in the idea of fairness and equal representation. But over time, this provision has been stretched, gamed, and exploited—not to serve the people better, but to give political families more room to grow their clout.

Since 1987, the number of lawmakers in the House of Representatives has swelled to over 300. By 2028, that number will increase again—perhaps beyond 350—thanks to the mandatory nature of population-based reapportionment. Yet in all this growth, what has improved? Certainly not the quality of debate. Not the speed of action. Not the depth of oversight. And not the faith of the public in their elected officials.

We have created a Congress too crowded, yet too weak.

Let’s be clear: the intent behind reapportionment is sound. Cities and provinces that grow deserve equitable representation. The people of Iloilo City have every right to be represented fairly as their population passes the 500,000 mark. But what we urgently need is a national conversation not just about where new districts should be created—but whether they should be created at all under the current political landscape.

In most democracies, the number of seats in parliament is fixed. Population shifts lead to redistricting, not multiplication. But here, the House keeps growing—bloated by new districts created not for governance but for political accommodation. The case of the Dys in Isabela is a textbook example: multiple districts, one ruling clan. Their story is not unique. Across the country, dynastic families quietly welcome every census because it becomes a chance to plant another loyal relative in Congress.

This is not representation—it is replication.

That is why reapportionment, especially in places like Iloilo City, should come with reform. If we must draw new districts, we should also draw new rules: cap the number of House seats. Adopt a system of reapportionment that keeps the balance of power in check. And most importantly, enforce long-overdue measures that prevent dynasties from turning public office into family heirlooms.

Representation without reform is a dead end. It pretends to empower, but only perpetuates. The Constitution gives Congress the power to reapportion every three years based on census data—but it also gives Congress the power to change how it functions. The failure to pass an anti-dynasty law, to reform campaign financing, or to even pass FOI legislation is not just a legal shortcoming—it is a moral one.

The irony is that the people are not asking for more politicians. They are asking for better ones. They are asking for transparency, integrity, and public service that actually serves the public. If we’re going to spend billions more to maintain a bigger legislature, the least we can do is ensure it produces better outcomes: stronger laws, independent investigations, and budgets that reflect priorities—not pet projects.

In Iloilo City, we can still set a better example. If a second district becomes inevitable, let it not be reduced to a prize for political clans. Let it be a challenge to choose leaders who serve, not succeed relatives. Let it be a space for new voices—young people, women, civil society leaders—who can bring back the idea that Congress is a place for nation-building, not name-building.

Hope lies in our refusal to accept the status quo. Agency begins with citizens demanding more from their lawmakers than lip service and tarpaulins. Dignity thrives when representation becomes a responsibility, not a reward.

Let us not simply count our seats. Let us make every one of them count.