After nearly four decades of constitutional silence, Malacañang certified an anti-dynasty bill as a “priority,” and the House version was promptly filed by none other than the presidential son Sandro Marcos himself, scion of one of the country’s most entrenched political clans and a product of a political dynasty himself. On paper, it sounds notable. In substance, it feels suspiciously like a decoy.
House Bill 6771 does not kill political dynasties. It disciplines them politely. The central flaw of the proposal is its obsession with simultaneity rather than succession. The bill largely prohibits relatives from holding certain elective posts at the same time within the same jurisdiction or level of government. That may look restrictive, but Philippine political dynasties do not survive by piling family members into office all at once. They survive by rotation—father to son, wife to brother, cousin to cousin—across election cycles and across levels of power. HB 6771 leaves that system largely intact.
In other words, the bill regulates optics, not dominance. A political clan could still control a province for decades by simply taking turns. One term off becomes a “cooling period” in practice, not by law. Another relative steps in. Power never really leaves the family. The bill’s architecture quietly accepts this reality—and dangerously will institutionalize it.
Worse, the bill’s jurisdiction-based slicing opens even more escape routes. Segmenting prohibitions according to national, provincial, city, municipal, district, and barangay levels allows relatives to spread horizontally and vertically across the government. This is not dismantling dynasties; it is giving them a compliance manual.
Then there is enforcement. HB 6771 leans heavily on COMELEC screening and sworn statements. In theory, this empowers the commission. In practice, it dumps a politically explosive task onto an institution already vulnerable to pressure, litigation, and selective enforcement, and one facing a crisis of credibility and integrity at the moment and for a long time. When rules are ambiguous, enforcement becomes negotiable. And negotiable laws favor the powerful.
Moreover, context matters. This anti-dynasty push arrives at a moment when President Marcos Jr.’s trust and approval ratings are sliding, and when corruption allegations and economic decline are piling up. Against that backdrop, an “anti-dynasty” headline is politically convenient. It sounds reformist without threatening incumbents. It signals virtue without demanding sacrifice.
Does this smell like another “budol” (deception)?
A serious anti-dynasty law would do three things that this bill avoids. First, it would ban successive control, not just simultaneous occupancy, through clear anti-succession rules or cooling-off periods that actually remove families from power. Second, it would cap the number of relatives who can run or hold office across levels, not just within the same box. Third, it would close jurisdictional loopholes rather than design around them.
Until then, this bill looks more like elite self-regulation, political dynasties policing themselves just enough to survive another generation. The question is whether the public will swallow it or finally demand the real thing.
Source: The Lobbyist
https://www.thelobbyist.biz/perspectives/article-details/prime%20insight/why-the-sandro-marcos-anti-dynasty-bill-smells-a-budol
