Dapat isa lang

We have been living with political dynasties for so long that we have learned to joke about them. Father is mayor. Mother is in Congress. The son is vice mayor. A daughter or cousin is waiting for the next opening. When somebody reaches the term limit, another relative steps forward, almost like changing drivers on a long trip. In some towns, the positions change more often than the surnames do. We laugh about it over coffee because that is what Filipinos often do with things that have become too familiar to remain surprising.

I have written about dynasties before, and one thing still bothers me about the usual argument. It too quickly becomes a debate over whether political families are good or bad. Real life is not that tidy. I have no difficulty believing that a good politician can have an equally capable daughter, brother, or spouse. Some political families have served their communities well. Being born into the “wrong” surname should not automatically make a person less worthy of public service. The discomfort begins somewhere else: when a family becomes so established in politics that everyone outside it has to fight through decades of accumulated advantage just to be noticed.

The Supreme Court has now forced that old problem back onto the table. In its August 26 decision, announced in September, the Court unanimously declared that Congress has a mandatory constitutional duty to enact an anti-political dynasty law. It also ruled that 39 years of failure to do so amounted to grave abuse of discretion (Kapatiran Party v. Congress of the Philippines, 2026). The Constitution says the State “shall” guarantee equal access to opportunities for public service and prohibit political dynasties as defined by law. Thirty-nine years later, the Court has basically said: that sentence was meant to mean something.

There is an important qualification. Political dynasties did not suddenly become illegal the morning after the decision. The Court did not decide which relatives should be covered or how far the prohibition should reach. It did not disqualify candidates with famous surnames. Congress still has to complete the lawmaking process. In fact, the House had already passed its anti-dynasty bill before the ruling. What changed is that the Court has now made the constitutional duty unmistakable: Congress still decides how political dynasties will be defined, but it cannot leave that mandate unfinished indefinitely. After almost four decades, “we are still studying it” begins to sound a little thin.

Then there is Dapat Isa Lang. The movement is taking another route, using the people’s initiative to propose an anti-dynasty law directly. Its published proposal reaches relatives within the fourth civil degree and places restrictions on family members holding or succeeding to elective positions. Here in Iloilo, the Jaro Archdiocesan Social Action Center has joined the campaign. Suddenly, something usually discussed in constitutional law classes and congressional hearings is being talked about in parishes, schools, community gatherings, group chats, and probably a few tables where coffee lasts longer than intended.

One phrase from the campaign is worth holding onto: Dapat Alam. Know first. Before signing anything, read it. Ask what fourth degree means. Ask which positions are covered. Ask what happens to relatives who have genuinely independent careers. Ask how succession rules would work. Ask how the proposal prevents families from simply finding another way around the restriction. Supporting an anti-dynasty law does not require switching off one’s skepticism. If anything, a proposal intended to improve democracy deserves more questions, not fewer.

And there are fair questions. Suppose two siblings are both competent and genuinely loved by their constituents. Why should one be prevented from running because the other got there first? Suppose two cousins belong to opposing parties and have separate careers. How much political responsibility should one person carry for the ambitions of a relative? Christian Monsod, who helped frame the 1987 Constitution, wrestled with this question himself before supporting the prohibition. I can see why. A person should not lose individual merit simply because of the family he or she was born into.

But picture a local election. One enters the race with ideas and a modest budget. The other enters with a known surname, networks, donors, and relatives in office. On the ballot, they look equal. Their starting lines are nowhere near the same.

That is why the dynasty question is bigger than whether individual politicians are good or bad. Research has linked dynastic concentration, especially when several relatives hold office at once, with poverty (Mendoza et al., 2012). Not every political family produces poverty. But when the same circle keeps the power, competition narrows and accountability can suffer.

Teachers probably recognize the problem. We tell students that leadership is earned, positions are temporary, and everybody deserves a fair opportunity. Then they go home and see campaign posters bearing surnames their parents saw when they were students. A young person may be legally free to dream of becoming mayor someday. But dreams also notice reality. If every road to public office seems to pass through a handful of families, some people eventually stop imagining that the road belongs to them.

Dapat Isa Lang itself has a difficult road ahead. Republic Act No. 6735 sets a demanding bar: at least 10 percent of registered voters nationwide, including 3 percent in every legislative district. Digital signatures may make the campaign easier, but COMELEC still has to deal carefully with verification and procedure. These are hardly rallying-cry material, but democracy is often decided in the fine print.

I am also wary of explaining Congress’ long delay simply as selfishness. Yes, many lawmakers come from political families, and that conflict deserves a hard look. But difficult questions remain about political rights, how far kinship should extend, where restrictions apply, succession, and enforcement. The Supreme Court left those choices to the legislature. Congress, for its part, is finally moving: the House has already passed its version, while the legislative process continues. The question now is not simply whether lawmakers will act, but what kind of law will finally emerge.

Maybe that is what makes this moment different. Dapat Isa Lang is not a perfect answer simply because it carries the appealing language of reform. Congress is not automatically incapable of producing a better one simply because many politicians come from dynasties. Both deserve to be read, questioned, and compared. The Supreme Court has settled only one part of the matter, but it happens to be an important part: doing nothing forever is no longer an acceptable interpretation of the Constitution.

When the next election comes, we will probably unfold a ballot filled with names we already know. Some will belong to public servants who have done good work. Some will carry advantages accumulated long before the campaign began. And somewhere on that ballot may be an unfamiliar name with no father, mother, uncle, or cousin already holding office. For almost 40 years, we kept arguing about the families already inside the room. Dapat Isa Lang and the Supreme Court decision leave us with a quieter question: who never got through the door?

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Doc H fondly describes himself as a ”student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.