MARCH 5, 2026 — Five opposition lawmakers — Chel Diokno, Perci Cendaña, Dadah Kiram Ismulah, Kaka Bag-ao, and Leila de Lima — ditched their authorship of the so-called anti-dynasty bill, slamming it as nothing more than “lip service.” Their gripe? The House suffrage committee’s version is so watered down it might as well be a glass of tap water.

The bill that pretends to bite

The committee-approved draft only bans relatives up to the second degree of consanguinity and affinity from running in the same area at the same time. Sounds strict? Not really. That still leaves cousins, uncles, and extended family members free to flood the ballot. 

Rep. Edgar Erice laid it out, warning the bill could let “10 persons from a political clan run for different positions.”

Akbayan lawmakers were furious, saying the substitute bill ignored key proposals raised during hearings, like banning dynasties within the party-list system and stopping family succession in elective posts. 

Their statement was blunt: “The adopted committee report falls short of the fair and democratic legislative process expected of Congress.”

Leila de Lima went even harder: “It has been four decades that we have been pushing for this in our Constitution, that is why this should never be a mere lip service, or just for the sake of passing a law – but the existence of political dynasties will still prevail with only a handful families controlling the government.”

Palace shrugs, Senate spots loopholes

Malacañang wasn’t having any of Erice’s finger-pointing at President Marcos. 

Presidential Communications Undersecretary Claire Castro snapped back: “Why put the blame on the President? If he (Erice) does not want the version of the House of Representatives, then he should do well in the debates and display his entire intelligence.”

But the circus didn’t stop there. Senate President Vicente Sotto III raised eyebrows with his warning about another loophole: mistresses. 

“You will be preventing the [legal wife] from running, but you’re allowing the mistress to run,” he said. “Sometimes mistresses are even more daring than wives.” 

His point? Influence doesn’t end with bloodlines or marriage certificates. It seeps into every kind of partnership.

This is about whether barangay captains, mayors, governors, and senators will keep treating public office like family property. Every election cycle, familiar surnames dominate ballots, leaving little room for fresh faces without dynastic backing.

The watered-down bill risks cementing this reality. By limiting the ban to the second degree, Congress is basically saying: “We’ll regulate dynasties, but only the obvious ones.” 

It’s a restriction that looks good on paper but does nothing to break the chokehold of political clans.

Expecting Congress to pass a genuine anti-dynasty law is like asking a trapo to give up pork barrel. Many lawmakers themselves belong to dynasties. Passing a law that cuts their own family’s power is political suicide.

Still, we deserve better. A real anti-dynasty law would open doors for ordinary citizens, strengthen democratic representation, and finally honor the spirit of the Constitution. Instead, we’re left with a diluted version that feels more like a showpiece than reform.

We have been patient for decades, waiting for Congress to deliver on the promise of democracy. But patience has limits. If this bill is just lip service, then democracy itself risks becoming lip service too.

Are we really okay with treating government seats like inheritance? How long will we keep letting politics look like a family business? 

(Image: House of Representatives of the Philippines | Facebook)