Third of a four-part series

IN the previous parts of this series, we explored how the Philippine state is not inherently “weak,” but is instead “captured” — its institutions repurposed to serve narrow interests rather than the common good. To understand how this capture is maintained across generations, we must look at the structural DNA of the Philippine ruling class. It is a phenomenon I call “oligopolidyn:” the seamless fusion of the oligarchy (economic control by the few) and political dynasties (political control by the few). In the Philippines, wealth and power are not merely neighbors; they are the same creature, living in the same house, sitting at the same table.

Evolution of the hybrid elite

Historically, political science viewed economic and political elites as distinct entities that balanced one another. In a functional democracy, business interests advocate for infrastructure and the rule of law, while politicians regulate industry to protect labor and the environment.

In the Philippines, this distinction has evaporated. Through the oligopolidyn model, the lawmaker and the conglomerate head are often the same person — or immediate kin. This transcends mere “crony capitalism,” which suggests a transactional friendship between two separate actors. Instead, we see structural integration: The office of governor or congressman has become the political wing of a family enterprise. Governance is no longer a check on private interest; it is its instrument.

The dynasty as a holding company

To understand the modern polidyn, we must stop viewing it through the lens of public service and see it as a holding company. In corporate form, holding companies protect assets, diversify risk and ensure succession. The Philippine political dynasty functions identically:

– Asset protection: A congressional seat ensures that family land, malls, or utility franchises are shielded from competitors or unfavorable taxation.

– Succession planning: Like a CEO grooming an heir, a patriarch prepares a child for the district. It isn’t about merit; it’s about brand continuity.– Risk diversification: Clans split members across executive, legislative, local and national roles. This ensures the family remains relevant regardless of who occupies Malacañang.

When wealth and power merge, both the market and the ballot lose independence. Entering politics becomes as daunting as challenging a utility monopoly. The “startup” candidate is crushed by the capital weight of incumbency.

The travesty of the party-list system

The distortion of the oligopolidyn is nowhere more visible than in the evolution of the party-list system. Conceived by the framers of the 1987 Constitution, this mechanism was intended as a vehicle for genuine democratic representation — a bridge for a planned parliamentary transition. It was designed to ensure that the “voiceless” – laborers, peasants and Indigenous groups — could secure a seat at the legislative table through proportional representation, shifting focus from cults of personality to ideology-driven platforms.

When the parliamentary transition was aborted, the system was awkwardly grafted onto a presidential framework, creating a structural misalignment that invited exploitation. Instead of empowering the marginalized, the party-list has become a “dumping ground” for election losers and a backdoor for powerful families to expand their reach.

Today, many groups are defined by inane acronyms or single-issue gimmicks rather than ideological depth. More distressingly, they function as “family businesses” where dynasts install relatives to occupy the one-fifth of the House reserved for the underrepresented. By co-opting these seats, the elite have neutralized a tool meant to challenge their hegemony. Rather than democratizing Congress, the party-list has become an adjunct to political patronage, ensuring power remains a hereditary commodity.

Ultimately, the “hybrid elite” has transformed Philippine governance into a sophisticated holding company, where the party-list system — once intended for the marginalized — serves as its latest subsidiary. By merging economic muscle with legislative control, these dynasties have effectively privatized democracy, ensuring that power remains a closed-circuit, hereditary commodity.

 The economic cost of political monopolies

The marriage of oligarchy and dynasty — the oligopolidyn — creates a closed-loop system corrosive to economic vitality. When a single family controls both the provincial capitol and the local marketplace, innovation stagnates. Why innovate when you can simply legislate? If a family-owned firm is guaranteed contracts because they are the government, the incentive to improve service vanishes.

This fuels the “rent-seeking trap.” Our economy relies on extracting wealth from controlled resources — land, utilities and licenses — rather than creating value through manufacturing. The oligopolidyn is the ultimate rent-seeking machine, maintaining a veneer of democracy while offering voters only an illusion: a choice between clan A or clan B, both committed to the same extractive model.

Breaking the loop: systems not families

For decades, Filipinos have been told the solution is to “elect better people” or pass a simple anti-dynasty law. This is a category error. We are not suffering from a “family” problem; we are suffering from a system problem. To dismantle the oligopolidyn, we must stop moralizing about personalities and start reengineering the architecture of the state.

The current unitary-presidential system is the primary oxygen supply for this elite capture. By centralizing immense power in a single office and geographic center (Metro Manila), the system creates a “winner-take-all” environment favoring those with the most initial capital. It reduces politics to a popularity contest rather than a policy debate.

To correct this, three fundamental structural shifts are imperatives:

– Transitioning to a parliamentary system: A parliamentary system shifts the focus from the “strongman” to the “strong party.” In a parliament, the executive is not an untouchable monarch but a “first-among-equals” who is daily accountable to the legislature. This negates the unitary-presidential centralization that allows a single family to capture the national direction.

– Institutionalizing ideologically differentiated parties: Currently, Philippine political parties are “flags of convenience” — empty vessels used by dynasties. We need a system defined by ideology (e.g., labor, green, liberal) rather than surnames. By mandating party-switching bans and providing public financing, we replace the “family holding company” with an “ideological institution.”

– Revising the 1987 Constitution: The current Charter has inadvertently fossilized the monopolies it sought to prevent. Its restrictive economic provisions protect local oligarchs from competition. A comprehensive revision is an act of survival, required to build a decentralized, competitive state that treats the economy as a field for innovation rather than a private pond for the elite.

The soul of the state

The Philippine tragedy is not lack of resources or talent. It is that the gatekeepers of our resources are the same few families. Oligopolidyn has turned our democracy into a private club and our economy into a family estate.

Operating within the 1987 framework is merely rearranging deck chairs on the “Titanic.” An anti-dynasty law under a presidential system — currently contemplated in Congress — will only yield new loopholes. True reform requires changing the rules, so the “dynastic strategy” is no longer the most efficient path to power. By uncoupling the surname from the seat of office, we can finally build a state that serves its citizens rather than its owners. The goal is systemic transformation, not just shifting personalities.

Next week: The dynastic civil war — why the 1987 Constitution is the battlegroundThe soul of the state