Iloilo’s New Chapter, Old Struggles

By Francis Allan L. Angelo

The May 2025 elections in Iloilo City made history by electing three women to the city’s top posts — Raisa Treñas-Chu as mayor, Lady Julie Grace “Love-Love” Baronda as vice mayor, and Julienne “Jam-Jam” Baronda for a third term in Congress.

Heralded as a victory for gender representation, the outcome also reflects a deeper and more familiar political reality: the tightening grip of the Treñas dynasty through Team Uswag’s near-total control of local power.

The question is not whether change has come. The real question is — change for whom?

One Dynasty’s Peak

Raisa Treñas-Chu’s sweeping win, clocking in at over 170,000 votes, was more than just a handover from her father, outgoing Mayor Jerry Treñas. It was the apex of a political dynasty that successfully blended legacy, populist branding, and a grassroots machine honed over decades.

With 11 of 12 city council seats under Team Uswag, Raisa begins her term with a supermajority unheard of in recent memory. She holds the rare power to legislate with little to no formal opposition.

For the city’s business community and project stakeholders, this offers administrative stability and fast-tracked programs — from the long-delayed city hospital and smart infrastructure to traffic reforms and PPPs in utilities and education.

But power without checks is not a virtue. The absence of a counterbalancing force inside the council threatens the democratic principle of scrutiny. Land use decisions, procurement deals, and billion-peso contracts may pass unchallenged.

Raisa’s greatest asset — full control — could also be her biggest liability if it breeds complacency, groupthink, or unexamined excess.

The Isolated Opposition

The Sulong Gugma coalition, led by the Baronda sisters and former mayor Jed Patrick Mabilog, emerged bruised but intact. Their performance in the barangays may not have translated into council dominance, but it showed a strategic presence in areas where anti-establishment sentiment is quietly brewing. These localities — Libertad-Lapuz, President Roxas, Maria Clara — are not vote-rich but are politically symbolic. They reveal cracks in the Team Uswag armor, suggesting a more discerning electorate than party-line margins would indicate.

Congresswoman Jam-Jam Baronda retains influence through her national post but faces implementation bottlenecks at the city level, where her programs require cooperation from a council largely loyal to the rival bloc.

Her final term must now serve dual purposes — deliver results while mentoring future leaders who can outlast her term limit in 2028.

Her sister, Vice Mayor-elect Love-Love Baronda, sits in a far lonelier position — one vote shy of irrelevance in a chamber she will preside over but not control.

Whether she chooses to act as a ceremonial figure or a vocal dissenting force will define both her political relevance and the visibility of Sulong Gugma in the years ahead.

Mabilog’s Silent Hand

While the May 2025 elections did not carry his name on any ballot, former Iloilo City mayor Jed Patrick Mabilog re-emerged unmistakably — not in person, but in narrative, memory, and mobilization. His visible alignment with the Sulong Gugma bloc, led by the Baronda sisters, marked a calculated reassertion of political influence after years of silence, exile, and speculation.

To many Ilonggos, Mabilog remains a polarizing figure — seen by supporters as a visionary leader ousted under questionable circumstances, and by critics as a cautionary tale of political ambition meeting the limits of national power play. But to political strategists, what’s undeniable is that his name still carries weight, especially in pockets of the city where memories of infrastructure upgrades, public health programs, and urban aesthetics under his administration remain vivid.

His presence in Sulong Gugma’s campaign was subtle but deliberate. Social media posts, soft endorsements, and shared messaging with the Baronda camp effectively cast him as both a moral counterweight to the Treñas dynasty and a potential architect of the opposition’s resurgence. This move was not just symbolic — it was strategic. It kept Mabilog politically relevant without exposing him to legal or electoral risk. It also opened the door for speculation: is this a preview of a formal comeback in 2028, or is Mabilog positioning himself as a behind-the-scenes kingmaker grooming a new generation of loyalists?

For Team Uswag, Mabilog’s reappearance is more than an irritant. It’s a reminder that dynasties, no matter how dominant, are not immune to public fatigue or political entropy. While Jerry Treñas’ legacy and Raisa Treñas-Chu’s mandate remain strong today, Mabilog’s reentry injects unpredictability into an otherwise controlled playing field. His alliance with the Baronda sisters is particularly potent: it merges charisma, institutional memory, and outsider appeal into a coalition that, if disciplined and expanded, could mount a formidable challenge by the next election cycle.

But for this to materialize, Mabilog must decide his role with clarity. Will he be the phoenix — seeking a return to office and public redemption? Or will he play the role of political architect, content with mentoring candidates and shaping platforms from the shadows? Either path comes with risks: a comeback invites renewed legal scrutiny and political resistance, while kingmaking requires humility, restraint, and organizational discipline — traits not always associated with returning political titans.

Still, the 2025 elections gave Mabilog what he lacked for years — visibility. Not as a has-been, but as a still-relevant player with unfinished business. His challenge now is to convert that visibility into viability.

And for Iloilo, the question remains: does the return of Mabilog signal a revival of lost promise, or the recycling of old rivalries dressed in nostalgia?

Whatever the answer, his shadow once again looms large over the city’s political future — not as a relic, but as a reckoning.

The Crossroads

Raisa Treñas-Chu must now prove that dynastic succession can still lead to substantive, inclusive governance. Her track record in public health and management gives her technical credibility. But she will be judged not by her family name or titles, but by her ability to deliver reforms with transparency.

Does her administration open up to dialogue with critics and civic groups, or does it operate within an echo chamber? Does she leverage her control to fast-track development or to insulate her administration from scrutiny?

Her answers to these questions will determine whether her victory ushers in a new chapter for Iloilo — or merely rebrands the old one with a different face.

Looking ahead, the dynamics are poised for disruption. Jerry Treñas and Jam-Jam Baronda will be term-limited by 2028. That year may become a battleground between an entrenched political family and a resurgent rival coalition, possibly powered by the Baronda sisters, Mabilog, or a new generation of independents and reformists. Even Team Uswag’s unity may be tested as younger councilors eye succession, potentially splintering the supermajority from within.

Sulong Gugma’s task is to organize or be extinguished. Its ability to survive the next three years hinges on building new leaders, reaching the middle class and youth, and presenting an authentic alternative vision — not just opposition for opposition’s sake.

The 2025 elections were undeniably historic, not just because women now hold Iloilo City’s three highest offices, but because they signaled a dramatic concentration of power.

Whether that power empowers or excludes will determine if this moment becomes Iloilo’s turning point — or just another chapter in its long tradition of dynastic politics.

The people have spoken. The task now is not just to govern, but to listen.

And for the opposition — to endure, evolve, and offer a future that isn’t simply the past wearing new colors.