Dynasty Death Grip: The Philippines’ Constitutional Clown Show Rolls On

By Louis ‘Barok‘ C. Biraogo — April 8, 2025

Step right up to the Philippines, where the Constitution is a suggestion, Congress is a family reunion, and the Supreme Court plays the reluctant babysitter. Nearly four decades after the 1987 Constitution told Congress to ban political dynasties, we’re still waiting for lawmakers to stop clutching their pedigreed pearls and do their damn jobs.

A fresh petition from the 1Sambayan Coalition and some righteous clergy is begging the Supreme Court to slap a mandamus on Congress’s backside, but Senate President Francis “Chiz” Escudero’s whining that it’s a “political question” the judiciary can’t touch. Cue former DOJ chief Leila De Lima, who’s out here dropping truth bombs: it’s not the Supreme Court strong-arming Congress—it’s the Constitution, the supposed “supreme law” these dynasts swore to uphold.

So, let’s dissect this legal-political farce with the glee of a tabloid tearing into a scandal, armed with the Constitution, case law, and a healthy dose of skepticism.

Constitutional Command or Toothless Taunt? Article II, Section 26 Exposed

Article II, Section 26 of the 1987 Philippine Constitution is clear as day:

“The State shall guarantee equal access to opportunities for public service and prohibit political dynasties as may be defined by law.”

Sounds noble, right? Equal access, no more feudal clans lording over public office like it’s their ancestral estate. There’s just one hitch—it’s non-self-executing. That little tagline, “as may be defined by law,” means Congress has to write the rulebook.

Spoiler alert: they haven’t.

For 38 years, this provision has been a wallflower at the legislative prom, ignored by a Congress where 80% of seats are a family affair (per a 2022 study cited in the 1Sambayan petition). De Lima’s got a point—if the Constitution is the “supreme law” under Article VII, Section 5, why’s Congress acting like it’s optional reading?

The petitioners argue Congress’s inaction isn’t just laziness—it’s a de facto repeal of a constitutional mandate. They’re not wrong. When a body tasked with lawmaking sits on its hands while dynasties metastasize, it’s not neglect; it’s sabotage.

But here’s the kicker: the Supreme Court’s been loath to play enforcer, thanks to its sacred cow—separation of powers.

Supreme Court: Gutless Referee or Powerless Puppet?

Let’s talk SC track record, because it’s a masterclass in judicial restraint—or cowardice, depending on your mood.

2013: The Court dismissed two petitions (G.R. Nos. 205963 and 206070, loosely referenced in the Manila Bulletin) begging it to force Congress to pass an anti-dynasty law. Why? Separation of powers, baby.
Bengzon v. Senate Blue Ribbon Committee (G.R. No. 89914, 1991): The SC ruled it can’t meddle in legislative turf unless there’s a “grave abuse of discretion amounting to lack or excess of jurisdiction.”
Tañada v. Angara (G.R. No. 118295, 1997): The Court said non-self-executing provisions like Article II’s goodies need Congress to breathe life into them.

Translation: the SC won’t touch this with a ten-foot pole unless Congress’s inaction is so egregious it’s basically flipping off the Constitution.

But wait—there’s a glimmer of hope.

Oposa v. Factoran (G.R. No. 101083, 1993): The SC flexed its muscle, enforcing Article II, Section 16 (environmental rights) by ordering the executive to act.

If the Court can protect trees for future generations, why not democracy?

The petitioners are banking on this, arguing that equal access to public service is a right so fundamental that Congress’s 38-year nap is a justiciable offense. Rule 65, Section 3 of the Rules of Court backs them up—mandamus can compel a “ministerial duty” when a body “unlawfully neglects” it.

Problem is, the SC’s likely to say defining “political dynasties” is discretionary, not ministerial, per Lazatin v. Commission on Elections (G.R. No. 89420, 1990). Escudero’s smug “political question” dodge might just hold water here.

Ethical Dumpster Fire: RA 6713 Mocks Dynastic Greed

Let’s pivot to ethics, because Congress’s dynastic stranglehold stinks worse than a Manila estero.

Republic Act No. 6713, the Code of Conduct and Ethical Standards for Public Officials, demands:

“Commitment to public interest”
“Justness and sincerity” (Section 4)

Yet here we are, with lawmakers passing power down like heirlooms, thumbing their noses at equal opportunity.

The 1Sambayan petition’s 80% stat isn’t just a number—it’s a neon sign screaming systemic inequality. When your job is to serve the public but you’re hogging the trough for your clan, that’s not just hypocrisy—it’s a violation of RA 6713’s spirit.

Too bad the law’s enforcement is as toothless as a gummy bear against this entrenched elite.

Political Cesspool: Dynasties Won’t Drain Their Own Swamp

Why the delay? Oh, bless your heart if you need to ask.

Congress is a dynasty playground—think Marcoses, Villars, Cayetanos, all cozying up in the 19th Congress like it’s a family reunion with better catering. Self-reform’s a pipe dream when the ones writing the laws are the ones breaking the Constitution’s intent.

Escudero’s dismissal reeks of self-preservation—he’s not exactly a political orphan himself. De Lima’s jab, “Is Congress above the Constitution?” cuts to the chase: these dynasts think they’re untouchable because, historically, they have been.

Public pressure’s bubbling—petitions, studies, clergy shaming—but without a stick to back the carrot, it’s just noise.

Constitutional Crisis or Dynastic Victory Lap?

Here’s the biting truth: this isn’t a “political question”—it’s a constitutional crisis dressed up as one.

Article II, Section 26 isn’t a suggestion; it’s a command. Congress’s refusal to act doesn’t just undermine democracy—it makes a mockery of the 1987 Constitution’s promise to dismantle the oligarchic mess left by Marcos Sr.

The SC’s hands-off stance might respect separation of powers, but it also risks rendering the Constitution a dead letter. And Escudero’s sanctimonious dodge? It’s the legislative equivalent of “the dog ate my homework”—except the dog’s a dynasty, and the homework’s been missing since 1987.

Battle Plan: Smashing the Dynasty Glass Ceiling

So, what’s the fix? Buckle up—here’s the Kweba ng Katarungan’s playbook, no punches pulled:

SC Showdown: Force the Court to Grow a Pair

The Supreme Court needs to rethink its 2013 cop-out.
Issue a narrow ruling declaring Congress in breach of its Article II duty without dictating the law’s text—think Oposa vibes, not a legislative overreach.
Cite Bagong Alyansang Makabayan v. Senate (G.R. No. 138570, 2001) to argue that constitutional mandates aren’t optional when they protect fundamental rights.

Constitutional Power Move: Make It Self-Executing

Screw the enabling law—amend Article II, Section 26 to kick in solo.
Launch a people’s initiative under Article XVII, Section 2, gathering 12% of voters’ signatures to rewrite it:
> “The State shall prohibit political dynasties, defined as relatives within the second degree holding elective office simultaneously or successively.”

Voter Vengeance: Burn the Dynasties Down

Boycott dynastic candidates in 2025—yes, that means 11 of the 12 administration senatorial bets (Daily Guardian, Oct. 26, 2024).
Flood X with #NoMoreDynasties, name names, and make it electoral poison to be a clan lackey.

Legislative Guerilla Strike: Sneak a Bill Through

A rogue lawmaker—preferably a non-dynast—should file a bill defining “political dynasties” under RA 6713’s ethical framework, tying it to sanctions like perpetual disqualification.
Sen. Robin Padilla’s Senate Bill No. 2730 (July 15, 2024, PNA) is a start—push it through, dare the dynasts to vote no, and watch them squirm.

Final Smackdown

The Philippines isn’t a democracy—it’s a dynastocracy, and Congress is the ringleader.

Article II, Section 26 is a promise betrayed, the SC’s a bystander, and Escudero’s excuses are a dynastic dog whistle. De Lima’s right—the Constitution’s screaming for action, not the Court.

Until someone—judiciary, voters, or a miracle—cracks the whip, this circus rolls on, and the only clowns laughing are the ones with famous last names.

Time to rewrite the script, Philippines. The Constitution deserves better than a 38-year ghosting.