Second of a four-part series

THE first part of this series last week argued that the 39-year failure to implement the constitutional ban on political dynasties (polidyn) is not a matter of legislative delay, but a structural design rooted in a centuries-old “operating system” of patronage (polpat) and clan-based hierarchy. By tracing the evolution from pre-colonial datus to a unitary-presidential system that incentivizes succession by blood, Congress — composed largely of the dynasties themselves — is fundamentally incapable of regulating its own power. This systemic entrenchment suggests that the government does not merely fail to act due to incompetence but is intentionally structured to serve the interests of those who control it.

For too long, we have diagnosed the Philippines as a “weak state,” fragile, chaotic and incapable. We have internalized this “weakness” as the ultimate apology for every collapsed reform and perennial crisis. But this diagnosis is false. The Philippines is far from weak. A weak state fails because it lacks capacity; a captured state is something far more sinister. Its capacity hasn’t been lost — it has been hijacked and rebuilt for private extraction by the very leaders entrusted with the public’s welfare. A weak state cannot act; a captured state acts with lethal precision, just never for the public good.

Once this distinction is understood, our chronic dysfunction stops looking like an accident and starts looking like a strategy. The system isn’t broken; it is operating exactly as intended.

The myth of weakness

The “weak state” narrative is a convenient myth. It allows leaders to evade responsibility, technocrats to rationalize failure, and citizens to internalize blame. It transforms structural capture into cultural defect. But weakness is erratic, while our failures are remarkably consistent. The state is only “weak” when asked to serve the many; it is incredibly “strong” and competent when shielding elite monopolies or crushing competition.

State capture is our true operating system. It manifests in selective enforcement (law as iron for the poor, rubber for the rich), uneven delivery based on loyalty, and the absorption of dissent. These are not glitches. They are the features of a system designed to ensure that the public remains a spectator in its own governance while private interests thrive behind the wheel.

The architecture of capture

Capture persists because it is architectural — layered, adaptive, self-reinforcing. It rests on four pillars.

– Dynastic gatekeeping — the rise of political dynasties (polidyn)

Polidyn do not merely win elections; they control entry points. They shape who can run, who can compete, and who must concede before the race begins. Elections become contests within cartels. The spectacle of competition remains; the perimeter is fixed. Here, the family becomes the state. The problem is not simply that dynasties exist. When one family dominates executive, the legislative and local affairs, public office merges with private interests.

– Bureaucratic veto points

Key agencies possess built-in choke points — signatures, reviews, and strategic delays — that dictate outcomes. A single withheld clearance can freeze a billion-peso project or paralyze a competitor. These “veto players” are the hidden architects of a structural defense, not mere inefficiency. The bureaucracy is strategically positioned; it isn’t universally corrupt, but it is meticulously designed for rent-seeking and regulatory capture. This is the machinery of a state that hasn’t failed but has been successfully occupied.

– Regulatory capture and market cartels

Sector after sector reveals the same geometry: energy, telecommunications, transport, agriculture, water. A handful of dominant players influence regulators and shape the rules that govern them.

Regulators appear to regulate. In reality, they negotiate. Resistance is costly; compliance is rewarded. The result is a polite oligopoly — prices remain high, entry remains difficult, and innovation remains controlled.

This is not market failure. It is market design.

– Informal networks overriding formal rules

Behind every formal process lies an informal one — brokers, intermediaries, political operators who ensure flexibility for those who “belong.” We have modern statutes but feudal outcomes because the informal outranks the formal. The written rule is ceremonial; the unwritten rule is decisive.

The capture tax

The price of capture goes beyond stolen billions — it includes the loss of unrealized potential for the Philippines. When transport cartels block modernization, workers lose three hours daily to traffic. When agricultural cartels choke supply, children lose essential nutrition. When telecom duopolies throttle infrastructure, students are exiled from the digital age.

These aren’t mere inconveniences; they are systematic thefts of time, health and opportunity. A captured state inflates the cost of living while paralyzing upward mobility, forcing the middle class into a permanent state of endurance rather than advancement. This is the ultimate toll of a system designed to serve the few at the expense of the future of the many.

Why reforms stall

Every administration promises change, yet each eventually confronts the same unyielding architecture. Capture defends itself through four mechanisms of attrition:

– Absorption: Reformers are given incentives to join the status quo.

– Neutralization: Policies are diluted until they are toothless and harmless.

– Delay: Implementation is stretched across decades, far beyond political cycles.

– Punishment: Those who persist in genuine opposition face harassment or isolation.

Even well-intentioned leaders discover that the system is stronger than individual resolve. The system does not openly confront reform; it quietly wears it down until the status quo is restored.

Naming the system

Citizens experience the consequences daily: congestion that never eases, prices that never fall, and services that never stabilize. Yet invisibility is a strategic asset of the captured state. It survives by making its failures appear natural — blaming cultural flaws or national temperament. We are told we lack discipline, that we are inherently corrupt, or that chaos is our character.

These narratives are anesthetics. They shift blame downward and normalize mediocrity. Expectations are lowered until minimal functionality feels like progress. The tragedy is not that the state is weak; the tragedy is that we have been persuaded to accept capture as destiny.

Naming the system is the first act of liberation. Capture is not fate; it is a design, and designs can be dismantled. But one cannot treat capture as weakness. You cannot “train” a bureaucracy paid to obstruct, nor can you “fund” an agency structured as a choke point. The first step is clarity: Stop asking why the state is slow and start asking who benefits from the delay. Stop asking why prices are high and start asking who profits from the scarcity.

Clarity reveals beneficiaries, and beneficiaries reveal power. But clarity alone is insufficient because capture fuses wealth and authority into a self-perpetuating loop. Wealth finances power, and power protects wealth. This convergence is more entrenched than simple dynasty and more resilient than isolated oligarchy. It is the merger of capital and coercion, of market share and ballot share.

When the polidyn evolves beyond gatekeeping and becomes structural sovereignty — when the same names dominate the boardroom and the ballot box, the regulator and the regulated — the circle closes. This merger of wealth and power into a single, unbreakable unit has a name.

Next week: Oligopolidyn: When wealth and power become one.

The Senate President crowed yesterday that the party he nominally coheads, PDP-Laban, has a “pleasant problem” — too many potential senatorial candidates. Koko Pimentel’s estimate is they have up to 20 possible choices for the 12-person slate for the 2019 senatorial race. But his list includes the five administration-affiliated senatorial incumbents up for reelection next year. This is a group that has made noises that, much as it prefers to remain in the administration camp, it is unhappy with the way PDP-Laban has been designating its local leaders and candidates, and therefore prefers to strike out on its own, perhaps in alliance with the other administration (regional) party, Hugpong ng Pagbabago, headed by the President’s daughter and current Davao City mayor, Sara Duterte.

Setting aside, then, the five-person “Force,” the administration-oriented but not PDP-friendly reelectionists (Nancy Binay, Sonny Angara, Cynthia Villar, Grace Poe, and JV Ejercito), what Koko’s crowing over is a mixed bag. Some of them have been floated by Speaker Pantaleon Alvarez (with whom Mayor Duterte clashed in recent months): six representatives (Gloria Macapagal Arroyo who is in her last term in the House of Representatives; Albee Benitez, Karlo Nograles, Rey Umali, Geraldine Roman, and Zajid Mangudadatu), three Cabinet members (Bong Go, Harry Roque, and Francis Tolentino), and two other officials (Mocha Uson and Ronald dela Rosa), which still only adds up to 11 possible candidates (who are the missing three?).

Of all of these, the “Force” reelectionists are only fair-weather allies of the present dispensation; their setting themselves apart is about much more than the mess PDP-Laban made in, say, San Juan where support for the Zamoras makes it extremely unattractive for JV Ejercito to consider being in the same slate. Their cohesion is about thinking ahead: Creating the nucleus for the main coalition to beat in the 2022 presidential election. The contingent of congressmen and congresswomen who could become candidates for the Senate, however, seems more a means to kick the Speaker’s rivals upstairs (at least in the case of Benitez and Arroyo) and pad the candidates’ list with token but sacrificial candidates, a similar situation to the executive officials being mentioned as possible candidates (of the executive officials, only Go seems viable, but making him run would deprive the President of the man who actually runs the executive department, and would be a clear signal that the administration is shifting to a post-term protection attitude instead of the more ambitious system-change mode it’s been on, so far).

Vice President Leni Robredo has been more circumspect, saying she’s not sure the Liberal Party can even muster a full slate. The party chair, Kiko Pangilinan, denied that a list circulating online (incumbent Bam Aquino, former senators Mar Roxas, Jun Magsaysay, TG Guingona, current and former representatives Jose Christopher Belmonte, Kaka Bag-ao, Edcel Lagman, Raul Daza, Gary Alejano and Erin Tañada, former governor Eddie Panlilio and Cebu City Mayor Tomas Osmeña) had any basis in fact.

What both lists have in common is they could be surveys-on-the-cheap, trial balloons to get the public pulse. Until the 17th Congress reconvenes briefly from May 14 to June 1 for the tail end of its second regular session (only to adjourn sine die until the third regular session begins on July 23), it has nothing much to do. Except, that is, for the barangay elections in May, after a last-ditch effort by the House to postpone them yet again to October failed.

Names can be floated but the real signal will come in July, when the President mounts the rostrum and calls for the big push for a new constitution—or not. Connected to this would be whether the Supreme Court disposes of its own chief, which would spare the Senate—and thus, free up the legislative calendar—to consider Charter change instead of an impeachment trial. In the meantime, what congressmen do seem abuzz over is an unrefusable invitation to the Palace tomorrow — to mark Arroyo’s birthday. An event possibly pregnant with meaning.

Here’s a striking statement about love shared with me by an English college mentor. “Love knows no grammar. How it works can’t be measured by any parts or figures of speech. It goes beyond the literate and illiterate. The sad reality is that, even a fool who has got no philosophy is not spared of its harsh reality.” After almost three decades, I reminded him through a private message of his words. Here’s what he said. “Thank you, Jord. This statement about love is searing to the heart. And, yes, fools do fall for it too. But I thought that we as well speak of the beauty that it gives and not so much focus on the harsh realities. After all, our country has had enough of the negativities.” Thank you, dearest Sir Eugene.

In these decisive times when our nation trembles under the weight of corruption, inequality, and disillusionment, it is you―the youth, burning with idealism, courage, and an unyielding sense of right―who must stand at the forefront of CHANGE. The future of the Philippines hangs in the balance, calling not for silence or apathy, but for unity, conviction, and action. Let your dreams be the spark that ignites renewal; let your voices thunder against injustice; let your hands build the nation our forebears envisioned but never fulfilled. Now is the hour to awaken, to rise, and to lead the march toward a just and transformed Philippines.

Remember, the pages of our history resound with the triumphs of youth who dared to dream and act. From the Propagandists who wielded the pen against tyranny to the Katipuneros who took up arms for freedom, it was always the young who ignited revolutions and rebuilt nations. As Dr. Jose Rizal declared, “The youth is the hope of our motherland,” but that hope is not a gift to be passively claimed; it is a duty to be earned through courage and purpose.

Today’s generation must transform awareness into action―to confront corruption with integrity, to challenge inequality with empathy, and to counter apathy with participation. The time for mere commentary has passed. What the nation demands now is commitment, creativity, and collective resolve. When the youth stand united in conscience and conviction, no obstacle is insurmountable, no reform impossible. The power to redeem the nation’s promise lies not in the hands of the few, but in the awakened spirit of the many. Rise, therefore, as one generation with one objective―to forge a Philippines worthy of its people’s deepest hopes. And to those who were once the torchbearers of youth but have since laid down their fire―hear this call.

The nation does not forget its veterans of hope, those who once believed that change was possible but have since grown weary in the long twilight of disappointment. Thus far history grants no sanctuary to resignation. It demands of every generation the same unrelenting duty―to defend what is right, to confront what is wrong, and to labor still for what remains unfinished.

Now is the moment to rise again. Let not caution disguise itself as wisdom, nor comfort as peace. The courage that once stirred your youth still flickers within; rekindle it, and let it burn anew for the sake of those who follow. Your experience, tempered by time, must now join hands with the fervor of the young - to guide, to mentor, to strengthen.

Together, let the wisdom of the seasoned and the passion of the rising coalesce into a single, indomitable force for renewal. For the task of nation-building is not bound by age, but by conviction. The call of the motherland resounds to all who still believe that the story of the Filipino is not yet complete―and that redemption, though delayed, is still within our grasp if only we choose to act once more. And to those whose hands have long gripped the levers of power―hardened by privilege, dulled by entitlement―hear this with clarity: the era of self-preservation must yield to the dawn of selfless service.

The nation can no longer afford leaders who mistake possession for stewardship, nor governance for dominion. The time has come to relinquish the throne of complacency and make way for the custodians of vision, courage, and renewal.

To step aside is not to surrender, but to honor the sacred rhythm of nationhood―to allow new voices, new hearts, and new minds to breathe life into institutions that have grown stale from neglect. True leadership is an act of stewardship, and stewardship demands humility―to know when to lead, and when to pass the torch. Those who have ruled long enough must now become mentors, not masters; guides, not gatekeepers.

To the youth who will inherit this burden and blessing alike, the call is equally profound. Lead not with arrogance, but with awareness; not with impulse, but with integrity. Let optimism be your discipline―a conscious act of faith in the nation’s capacity to rise again. Lead with inclusivity that unites rather than divides, with courage that reforms rather than destroys, and with resilience that endures when hope seems frail.

For the measure of a new generation’s greatness lies not in its defiance alone, but in its wisdom to build where others have failed. Let your leadership become the living testament that the Philippines, once disillusioned, has learned at last to believe again―through you.

Now, the Filipino youth stand at a defining crossroad of history. The echoes of the past and the murmurs of the future converge upon this moment, and in your hands rests the fragile, however formidable promise of a nation reborn. You are the inheritors of unfinished dreams and the architects of what is yet to be. United in thought and deed, strengthened by the wisdom of history and the fire of conviction, you possess the power to shape a Philippines anchored in justice, animated by democracy, and sustained by the collective flourishing of its people.

The mantle of responsibility has passed to you. Do not falter beneath its weight; bear it with courage, for it is through your resolve that the nation will rise from the ruins of complacency. Let your unity transcend boundaries of region, class, and creed. Let your integrity redefine leadership, and your compassion restore faith in the Filipino spirit.

This is your hour. Let this narrative be not merely a call to awaken, but a solemn commitment―to the country that nurtures you, to the people who believe in you, and to the generations who will follow your example. Stand firm, for you are the heartbeat of a nation yearning to live with dignity once more. Speak right and shine!

Rise, Filipino youth, and let history remember that when your time came ―you stood unwavering, and the nation moved forward.