In a unanimous 14-0 ruling, the Supreme Court (SC) in 2013 drove a stake through the heart of the Priority Development Assistance Fund (PDAF), the hideous “pork barrel,” declaring it unconstitutional.

The ruling is significant for a nation weary of corruption. It stopped a disease that had festered, denying the country the chance to reach its full potential in exchange for lining the pockets of opportunistic members of Congress.

Such opportunism refuses to die and has even worsened as it is resurrected through the combination of legislative insertions and the bloated unprogrammed allocations (UA) of the Bicameral Conference Committee.

The PDAF, a P27 billion yearly item, was a lump-sum appropriation embedded in the General Appropriations Act (GAA) allocated to individual members of Congress — senators and representatives — to fund their pet projects.

It emerged in various forms since the 1990s, such as the Countrywide Development Fund under President Ramos, but by the 2000s, it had solidified as the PDAF.

Each senator received P200 million annually, while each House representative got P70 million. Partylist representatives often received smaller amounts of around P30 million.

The projects were channeled through implementing agencies like the Department of Public Works and Highways, the Department of Social Welfare and Development, or the Department of Agriculture.

The Court’s verdict stated that legislators cannot be involved in picking projects post-enactment of the budget.

Appropriation ends with the GAA, while execution belongs to the Executive. In the 2025 GAA, the pork barrel has clawed back from the grave as a beast with greater malevolence, cloaked in the guise of the UA and prior budget insertions.

Tucked into the GAA was P731 billion worth of UA in the 2025 budget, mocking the Tribunal’s 2013 edict. Ostensibly reserved for emergencies or revenue windfalls, UA has ballooned into a backdoor bonanza for members of the Senate and the House of Representatives.

The parallels between the PDAF and UA abuse are too glaring to ignore.

Both have vague purposes, discretionary release, and a convenient bypass of legislative rigor.

The Tribunal struck down the PDAF for post-budget enactment meddling, as lawmakers handpicked projects after the budget was signed.

The UA pulls a similar stunt, just packaged differently. The UA sits outside the GAA’s programmed appropriations, activated only if revenue exceeds targets, certified by the Treasurer, or when foreign loans fill the gap.

The release of the funds hinges on Executive whim, often with congressional nudging, and their use lacks the line-item clarity that the SC’s 2013 ruling demanded.

In 2024, P89.9 billion of the Philippine Health Insurance Corp’s “excess” funds got diverted to UA coffers, and P60 billion was transferred before the SC’s temporary restraining order slammed the brakes.

The Bicam delivers the finishing touches to the pork barrel revival by padding the UA with scant debate.

The 2013 decision wasn’t only about ending the pork barrel system; it specified constitutional lines that should not be crossed, such as the requirement for budget items to have specific purposes and tying spending to legislative appropriation.

The UA flouts both, hiding behind “contingency” while ballooning beyond reason from P281 billion in 2024 to P731 billion in 2025.

The PDAF’s lump-sum vagueness allowed the siphoning of billions of funds into the budget, which the UA pot can deliver with less paperwork.

The Bicam’s 2025 budget report, rushed on 11 December 2024, for instance, left most cuts in the regular budgets of agencies unexplained, while the UA swelled.

Those who created the new beast in the budget argue that the UA is legal since the items are tied to revenue triggers.

The Supreme Court killed the PDAF to protect the “power of the purse” and the people it serves.

The UA-budget insertions tandem has given the pork barrel a new collar that is even more extravagant.