EXPLAINER | Why divorce is a right, not a threat?

In the Philippines, divorce remains illegal, making it the only country aside from the Vatican where married couples have no legal right to end their union permanently. While most countries treat divorce as a civil right and a form of legal protection, especially for victims of abuse and neglect, the Philippines has maintained a conservative legal system influenced by deep-seated religious and political interests.

This refusal is not accidental — it is shaped by powerful institutions such as the Catholic church, a male-dominated legislature, and longstanding cultural ideals that equate marital endurance with virtue. Together, these factors have made it difficult for many Filipinos to reclaim their freedom, safety, and dignity.

This legal void has trapped thousands of Filipinos, mostly women, in toxic and abusive marriages with no way out. Despite repeated attempts at proposed legislation, divorce keeps running into delays from conservative sectors and moral gatekeepers.

Divorce is the legal dissolution of a marriage by a court or an authorized body, freeing both spouses from the marital contract and allowing them to remarry if they choose to do so. This ends all legal obligations and rights that come with their marriage, offering a formal route out for those whose relationships have “broken down,” whether through neglect, abuse, or incompatibility.

Even when no violence is present or has occurred, forcing individuals to remain in marriages that lack mutual respect or any emotional connection undermines their autonomy and can even lead to long-term psychological distress.

Most countries treat divorce as a fundamental civil right and a needed option for those trapped in broken relationships. This is supported by the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, which in Article 16 (1) states that “they [men and women of full age] are entitled to equal rights as to marriage, during marriage and at its dissolution.” Article 16 (3) also affirms that “family is the natural and fundamental group unit of society and is entitled to protection by society and the State.”

These principles recognize that the ability to dissolve marriage legally is just as important as the right to enter one. In the Philippines, however, that protection remains out of reach.

The country’s complex history with divorce dates back more than a hundred years, shaped by changes in colonial governments, religious influence, and shifting political contexts. The Philippines’ legal stand on divorce has swung between being allowed and forbidden.

Many women have been trapped in cycles of abuse, fear, and helplessness for too long. The 2022 National Demographic and Health Survey shows that about 17.5% of women aged 15 to 49 in the Philippines have experienced some form of partner abuse. 

In 2021 alone, there were 8,399 cases of physical abuse, 1,791 cases of rape, and 1,505 cases of sexual misconduct. These figures, however, are more than just statistics — they represent stories of pain endured in silence. As one survivor bravely shared, “There are many women suffering like this in the Philippines … it makes me feel mad, sad, lonely that we can’t divorce. Where is the compassion? Where are our human rights?” Until divorce becomes a legal option, many will remain trapped not just in violent homes, but in a country that refuses to let them leave.

And even now, the law structurally demands prolonged legal entanglement, retraumatized survivors in court, and punishes them financially — all of which contradict its supposed protective function.

For those who have suffered spouse violence, their options are limited to either legal separation or annulment. However, both options are difficult, expensive, and don’t truly free them from their situations. These options don’t end the marriage, nor do they offer full protection. Essentially, they keep the victims tied up — emotionally, legally, and financially.

When a marriage becomes “hopeless,” Filipinos have only a few legal options to consider: annulment, legal separation, or a declaration of nullity. These, however, are difficult to pursue due to finances and emotional circumstances.

Annulment, which effectively declares a marriage null as if it did not exist. It is only granted under certain grounds, such as when one partner lacked parental consent, there was a psychological incapacity, fraud, coercion, or if one partner has an incurable sexually transmitted disease. But this process suggests that only marriages “defective” from the start are worthy of dissolution, leaving no legal remedy for couples whose once-healthy relationship have gradually fallen apart. It overlooks that even unions built on love and good faith can break down over time.

Beyond its emotional toll, the process of annulment also demands a huge financial and time investment, as it can cost from 200,000 to 300,000 pesos to have an annulment in the Philippines, and it can take several years due to delays, which is far out of reach for many Filipinos. In a country where the daily minimum wage is just a few hundred pesos, the ability to legally have a harmful marriage becomes a privilege.

On the other hand, a declaration of nullity applies when a marriage was never valid from the very start, such as when a marriage involves bigamy or incest. Once more, it must comply with strict legal procedures and court processes..

Legal separation, meanwhile, permits couples to separate their assets and live apart, but it doesn’t allow remarriage. Grounds for separation in this case include abuse, infidelity, abandonment, or substance addiction.

Even when the abuse exists, the victims must appear in court in front of their abuser and are not able to actually begin again. For people who simply want to move on from a broken marriage and focus on healing, these options often fall short as they don’t end the marriage but only put a pause on its consequences. For most, that is not just difficult; it can feel heartbreaking and restricting.

Although divorce is in desperate need, there is a clear gendered split in the struggle for its law reform. The struggle for the passage of divorce laws is not merely legal; it is a symbol of who gets to hold power to define concepts such as family, dignity, and autonomy. Especially in a system long influenced by patriarchal norms, the absence of divorce in the country continues to reflect whose voices are heard in policymaking, and whose lived realities are set aside.

All but the most conservative women legislators support the cause, usually motivated by the survivors’ testimony. Opposition usually comes from a majority-male Senate, such as Senate President Francis Escudero, majority leader Francis Tolentino, Joel Villanueva, Ronald Dela Rosa, and Jinggoy Estrada. These opposing stances usually illustrate who gets to decide what “morality” is in government halls as their resistance speaks to more than personal belief; it points to a deeper form of moral gatekeeping, where male legislators continue to define what is “acceptable” in family life. By doing this, they not only impede reform but also uphold a system where women’s suffering is minimized in favor of preserving a status quo that no longer serves the many.

They claim that divorce is not about destroying families but maintaining those that are already broken. The opposition is more likely to cast it in religious or moral terms, almost entirely avoiding reality for those who are most affected. Others cast divorce as an assault on family values.

Furthermore, the Philippines is one of the fewest countries that still uphold traditional values. Unlike most nations, which recognize divorce as a fundamental legal right, even countries with strong Catholic traditions like Spain, Italy, and Brazil. The issue then lies not in Catholicism itself, but in how it is selectively applied to shape state policy. Where other countries balance religious beliefs with civil rights, the Philippines often uses religion as a legislative barrier, leaving a little to no room for individual freedom or diverse realities within the legal system.

The Catholic Church, led by the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of the Philippines, has consistently opposed the idea of divorce, emphasizing that marriage is sacred and unbreakable. Many lawmakers tend to share this view, often hesitant to oppose because they worry about losing votes from different religious communities.

Public misunderstanding also continue to cloud the issue. Despite its costly, complex, and emotionally draining process, many Filipinos still see annulment as a quick and easy way out. These misconceptions shed light on the critical gap in public legal literacy — one that could be addressed through judiciary-led education campaigns. Without efforts and programs to clarify the realities of the divorce alternatives, including annulment, many will continue to approach the process with false hopes and limited knowledge, further intensifying the emotional toll of an already difficult journey.

A common myth is that only the “non-incapacitated” spouse can file for annulment, when in truth, either partner may initiate it. There’s also a false belief that both parties can jointly file for annulment. Courts view this as collusion, which may result in dismissal. 

Finally, psychological incapacity is often misunderstood as insanity. In reality, it may show up as emotional immaturity or refusal to fulfill marital duties. What many do not realize is that this “incapacity” is rooted in Canon Law, highlighting how deeply religion continues to influence civil legislation in the country. As a result, these misconceptions further alienate people from seeking justice as they are believed to must meet not only legal precedent standards but also religious doctrine.

The conversation around divorce in the country extends beyond just legal or religious beliefs. It's about real people—survivors who are trying to seek safety, children being caught up in unresolved legal battles, and citizens who are stripped of the ability to make choices on their relationships and futures.

Recognizing the right to divorce equates to acknowledging human dignity, personal agency, and the need for healing. It supports tht no one should be bound to a relationship that endagers their well-being emotionally, physically, or psychologically. More than a legal reform, it is a call for justice that includes those most often left behind — women trapped in abusive marriages, individuals who cannot afford the high costs of annulment, non-Catholics subject to religiously influenced laws, and young individuals married too early with no way out.

Contrary to claims that divorce threatens marriage, it actually protects its integrity by ensuring it remains a union rooted in mutual respect not obligation or fear. What endangers the institution of marriage is not the freedom to leave, but the refusal to let go of relationships that have long ceased to be safe or loving.  Divorce offers a path to safety, peace, and the possibility of beginning again — no one’s own terms.