Ruling for over 333 years: that’s how long the Spaniards colonized and governed the archipelago with ruling power. After leaving their dominion region in Asia in 1898 after several resistance, rebellion, and uprising liberating movements, this was replaced by the Americans who stayed for 48 years. On July 4, 1946, the Americans recognized the Philippines’ independence. The Philippines relished 92 years of being a self-governing commonwealth since 1935. This was not just only a simple organization, but a fraction of being a free and independent Philippine Republic. That was a significant step toward ensuring that no colonizer would ever again control the nation’s sovereignty. However, the nation was freed from colonizers, but instead ruled and controlled by bloodlines who became the new tyrants of a nation losing its democracy.
More than a century after Filipinos shed blood, sacrificed lives, and fought for independence, the question remains: are we truly free?
Studies have found that around 70% of members of Congress come from political dynasties, while many provinces and cities continue to be governed by the same surnames, generation after generation.
This is not the democracy our heroes envisioned. Every election promises change, yet many Filipinos find themselves choosing among the same families, the same political clans, and the same inherited power structures. While ordinary citizens struggle with rising prices, low wages, overcrowded classrooms, and inadequate public services, political offices are passed down like family heirlooms. The ballot box, which should be the great equalizer of democracy, has become a conveyor belt that transfers power from parent to child, sibling to sibling, and dynasty to dynasty.
The tragedy is not merely that political dynasties exist, it is that they have become so normal that many Filipinos no longer question them. We celebrate Independence Day every June, waving flags and honoring our fallen heroes who died for independence, yet the spirit of freedom is hollow when leadership remains reserved for a political elite. We may no longer bow to foreign empires, but we continue to kneel before local kingdoms built on surnames, wealth, and influence. Until public office ceases to be a family inheritance remains unfinished. The chains of colonialism may have been broken, but new chains forged by dynasties and political monopolies continue to bind the nation today.
According from Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism (PCIJ), Rollingstone, and Daily Tribune, eight out of 10 House representatives come from political dynasties, 71 out of 82 governors come from political families, 113 out of 149 cities are ruled by dynastic politicians, and 250 families control all 82 provinces at various levels. Most powerful dynastic strongholds mentioned from UP Center for Integrative and Development Studies, and PCIJ includes Marcos-Romualdez of Ilocos Norte, Singson of Ilocos Sur, Tan of Samar, Ortega of La Union, Duterte of Davao City, Pacquiao of Sarangani, and Dimaporo from Lanao Del Norte.
Why these numbers are important? It just exposes a painful contradiction in the Philippine story. We fought centuries of foreign rule to reclaim our freedom, yet today, political power remains concentrated in the hands of a privileged few. In 2016, political economist Ronald Mendoza and his fellow researchers found that provinces with stronger political dynasties tended to have higher poverty rates and weaker political competition.
For the average voter, the impact is personal. A farmer waiting for irrigation projects, a student hoping for better school facilities, or a patient lining up in a public hospital does not care whether a politician belongs to a dynasty or not—they care whether their lives improve.
The uncomfortable truth is that the Philippines may have defeated colonial rule, but it never truly defeated the culture of concentrated power. We expelled foreign masters, only to replace them with political families from the Philippines itself who have turned public office into a family enterprise. Independence liberated the nation from outsiders; it did not liberate it from those who would monopolize power from within.
So as Filipinos wave flags and celebrate independence, perhaps the question we should ask is not whether the nation is free. The more difficult question is this: How can a country call itself democratic when so much of its power remains confined to so few hands? Until that question is honestly confronted, Independence Day risks becoming more than a celebration of freedom, it becomes a reminder of a democracy that remains unfinished.
