Hidden cost of influence in PHL polls

A recent study by researchers from the University of the Philippines and several foreign universities has pulled back the curtain on a troubling reality of modern Philippine elections: the growing, largely hidden role of social media influencers in political campaigning. 

Their findings, which identify at least 1,425 influencer accounts engaged in covert or under-the-radar campaigning during the 2022 presidential elections, should prompt serious reflection among policymakers, platforms and voters alike.

The study, released by the UP Office of the Vice President for Academic Affairs, goes beyond anecdote and suspicion. Using an interdisciplinary mix of qualitative social science research, computational methods and economic modeling, the authors mapped how influencers across Facebook, Twitter, TikTok and YouTube were mobilized to subtly promote political candidates. Interviews with influencers, campaign managers and political consultants revealed what many already suspected: there was a strong demand for influencers precisely because of their perceived authenticity and reach, especially among younger voters.

What is most striking is not just the scale of the operation, but its cost. The researchers estimate that at least $27 million may have been spent on influencer campaigning under a pay-per-post model, or $10.9 million under a retainer model. These figures rival traditional campaign expenditures and highlight how online influence has become a major, if poorly regulated, pillar of electoral strategy. Yet unlike television or print ads, much of this spending remains invisible to the public, hidden behind personal brands, lifestyle content and algorithmic recommendations.

The platform-specific findings are equally revealing. YouTube and TikTok dominate the landscape of covert campaigning, with influencers leveraging recommendation systems and partisan hashtags to amplify political messages. 

Facebook, while hosting the most election-related discussions overall, showed a smaller proportion of covert campaigners—though those identified often engaged in coordinated link sharing and repeated scripts, sometimes intersecting with disinformation networks. 

Twitter influencers, on the other hand, relied on synchronized retweets and quote tweets to push narratives within narrow time frames. These differences underscore how each platform’s design shapes not only user behavior but also the tactics of political manipulation.

Beyond the numbers, the study’s most important contribution may be its framework. By integrating qualitative insights with computational analysis and economic modeling, the researchers offer a modular approach that other countries can adapt to examine their own online political ecosystems. In an era where political campaigning constantly evolves to outpace regulation, such tools are invaluable.

Still, research alone is not enough. The findings raise urgent questions about transparency, accountability, and electoral fairness. Should influencers be required to disclose political sponsorships more clearly? Are existing election laws equipped to deal with covert digital campaigning? And what responsibility do platforms bear when their systems enable coordinated political influence without meaningful oversight?

Ultimately, democracy depends on informed consent. When political persuasion is disguised as entertainment or personal opinion, that consent is compromised. The study serves as a warning: without stronger policies, platform accountability, and media literacy, covert influence operations may continue to shape elections in ways voters never see—but deeply feel.

Should we be concerned? We should be panicking.