Democracy has been struggling to find a foothold in the Philippines for over a century. A political system with democratic qualities coexists alongside a deeply entrenched oligarchy of political families. Since Spanish colonial times, families of elites have been vying for political power. This “game of thrones”, is largely responsible for the reoccurring democratic backsliding. Without a clear definition of what a political dynasty is and a ban put in place for it, democracy will not consolidate in the Philippines.

In 1898, after nearly two centuries of colonial rule by Spain, the Philippines established the first democratic constitution in Asia. Within that same year, the Philippines would be annexed by the United States, one of many setbacks to come for the progression of democratic consolidation. It was not until 1946 that they would regain sovereignty.  Having gained freedom again, the new government of the Philippines would be modeled after the U.S. With the foundation and backing of a mature democracy, why would democracy in the Philippines become so unstable?

To understand how these families rose into power, we will need to reflect on how Spanish colonialization established elites in the Philippines. During the era of colonization, rather than directly ruling their colony, Spain formalized a local government that was run by indigenous elites called a “cacique” (Anderson, 1988). They were the intermediary for the colonist state and the ordinary Filipino. This position, which had historically been hereditary, would evolve into the modern-day landscape of political dynasties. After independence, elite power became electoral dominance: controlling land and daily life meant controlling how people voted.

Out of the many political family elites in the Philippines, the Marcos family is the most prominent and currently holds the position of president with Ferdinand Marcos Jr. However, one of the most important turning points of democratic backsliding in Filipino history occurred under President Ferdinand Marcos Sr. In 1972, the seventh year of his presidency, he would impose martial law, causing the revocation of civil liberties, dissolution of congress, and the replacement of the constitution (AKM Khairul, 2021). Since the establishment of the constitution in 1935, the presidential terms would allow for eight years of service maximum. Martial law would last until 1981, retaining his authoritarian power in the process. This aggrandizement of power obtained through martial law would extend his reign until 1986, when the People Power Revolution, a mass popular uprising, would force him from office. Following his removal from office, an anti-dynasty clause was written into the constitution in 1987. However, the wording in the clause was defined poorly, which would lead to the exploitation of loopholes allowing dynasties to continue discreetly. This is why a clear definition, not just a ban, is the missing piece: without one, families claim their rule is justified.

The writers of the 1987 constitutional clause knew exactly why it mattered. Having lived through the Marcos dictatorship, they wanted to prevent any single family from controlling political power. When the time came to define what counts as a dynasty, which family relationships to cover, and which offices to restrict, they could not agree, so they left the definition up to Congress. For nearly four decades, anti-dynasty bills were filed and left to die. In September 2026, the Supreme Court finally ran out of patience: they unanimously ordered Congress to pass an anti-dynasty law, ruling that 39 years of inaction amounted to no tangible change in the operations of political dynasties (Sanchez, 2026). The Court gave Congress the mandate it had dodged since 1987, but decades of delay are themselves evidence of the thesis: the families in power were never going to define the term that would end their rule (Dickovick et al., 2023, p. 411).

Having left the anti-dynasty clause undefined, severe consequences have arisen. Scholars have found that roughly seventy percent of its jurisdiction-based legislators came from political families, and that the districts they governed showed lower standards of living, lower human development, and higher inequality than the rest of the country (Mendoza et al., 2012). Later research has given a clear image that dynastic rule is strongly associated with deepening poverty in the provinces outside Luzon, while in Luzon a more competitive business environment appears to check the worst of the predation (Mendoza et al., 2022). In other words, where dynasties face little economic competition, they enrich themselves while their constituents stay poor.

Under the current administration of Ferdinand Marcos Jr., authoritarianism has taken a more covert approach. This can be clearly observed when former Vice President Sara Duterte was under an impeachment complaint after being charged with plotting an assassination on the president by Marcos Jr. (Palatino, 2026). The impeachment was carried out by Marcos Jr.’s allies in the House with which he shares family ties to. The first impeachment complaint was dismissed, but as of May 2026 a renewed impeachment effort has moved forward, this time under different charges than conspiracy to commit assassination (Lalu, 2026). Meanwhile, allies of the Duterte family maneuvered to take control of the Senate, the very chamber that would conduct her trial, signaling that a conviction was unlikely no matter what the House decided. The event puts into question whether impeachment is being abused as a weapon against checks and balances. Rather than using the iron-fisted and overt tactics used to aggrandize power once used by his father, Marcos Jr. has instead opted to stabilize the trajectory of erosion.

Under the governmental system in the Philippines, political parties hold very little meaning and are often used as a means to an end by these families, functioning more as vehicles of family and personal alliances than of ideology. Turncoatism is not an uncommon practice in Philippine politics. Marcos Jr. spent over a decade with the Nacionalista Party before jumping to the Partido Federal ng Pilipinas in October 2021, filing his presidential candidacy the very next day (Rosario, 2021). Until dynasties are defined and banned, parties will keep serving the families, not the public.

There are counterarguments from those defending the status quo that are worth considering. Name recognition that comes from celebrity, they argue, is simply experience: a family that has served a province for generations knows its people and its problems. However, this does not address the root problem. Experience in office is not the same as a monopoly on office, and a democracy that only allows one family name at the ballot does not offer a real choice. Dynasties born of poverty don’t need acceptance of inherited power. They need development and real competition.

Political dynasties in the Philippines have not worked for the better interest of the nation and its people. Rather than developing the country, dynastic rule has too often put family interests ahead of national development. Democracy will not be able to consolidate until a clear definition of political dynasties, and the banning of that practice, is put into place.