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As the 20th Philippine Congress prepares to open session on July 28, it is not completely clear which of its members comprise the opposition. A war of words, even violent theatrics, has been waged for months to claim its face.
Of course, there remains the “traditional opposition,” an alliance of liberal and progressive party lists and figures. In the May midterm elections, they saw their ranks swell in both chambers, against survey odds and with commanding mandates.
For Senator Risa Hontiveros, the return to the Senate of Bam Aquino and Kiko Pangilinan, combined with the House wins of Akbayan, Mamamayang Liberal, and other key allies (especially from the Makabayan bloc), make for a strong political force after nine years in the margins. They pave not only a third way out of the Marcos-Duterte clash, but also a path away from the politics of authoritarian nostalgia.
At the same time, also notching midterm victories were politicians aligned with Vice President Sara Duterte and her former president-father. They have branded themselves the “real opposition” since Duterte’s falling-out with President Bongbong Marcos in 2024. Although it saves no mercy for liberals and progressives, the Duterte bloc has focused a relentless crusade against what they view as a persecuting administration.
Even family ties, for Duterte-ally Senator Imee Marcos, could not overcome political blood. From the Interpol arrest of the former president to the looming impeachment trial of the current vice president, the Duterte clan responds from the defensive, guarding its upper hand in the 2028 presidential elections.
So, who is the “real” opposition? And what does it mean, in the first place, to be in opposition? Surely, it requires more than simply being against.
Opposition or opportunist?
Political scientists have long viewed opposition politics as an institutional corrective, generally taken up by elected leaders. It’s meant to allow rival politicians (those with fundamental differences with the ruling majority) and losing individuals, parties, and coalitions (those who did not win the presidency or the majority in the legislature) to express alternative forms and possibilities of governance.
The opposition then serves, for Giovanni Sartori, as a “government-in-waiting.” Even as they seek to hold those in power to account, they must also do so constructively, showing a willingness, readiness, and credibility in leading the people. Democratic opposition, in other words, does not conspire that rivals falter or fail (or die, as Sara Duterte prefers).
That opposition groups or figures work constructively with the ruling majority is also expected by Philippine law. As part of national or local government, they are charged by the 1987 Constitution and other statutes (Omnibus Election Code, Local Government Code, etc.) as well as institutional bylaws (Senate Rules, House Rules, among others) with specific tasks key to the functioning of government.
They provide oversight, for instance, to policy creation, to appointment proceedings, and to bicameral deliberations. Such responsibilities allow different political visions to correct, and even direct, the tenor and substance of governance.
However, the anti-democratic tendencies of Philippine politics make these tasks easier said than done. To be in opposition has become so difficult and dangerous a role that it has become a vocation in crisis times like today. Anti-Martial Law leaders like Senators Ninoy Aquino, Jose Diokno, and Claro M. Recto come to mind: they pushed visions of a more just, democratic, and humanistic Philippines at daily risk of imprisonment and assassination.
By working alongside allies outside government — student activists, workers, farmers, religious leaders — their political grievances bound up intimately with popular demands. Being in opposition then means much more than just preparing for one’s turn in power. It is a moral struggle bigger than the perks and privileges of power.
Sara Duterte and her allies have made it increasingly clear they are hollow imitations of a political opposition: they buck what is expected of one institutionally and historically. They do not seek political correction; they simply crave political power. Where have they been and what have they done (or chose not to do) in key political moments of the past two years?
Twisting themselves into pretzels to derail the impeachment trial is only the most glaring example. When Senator Hontiveros led a successful and popular crackdown on Philippine Offshore Gaming Operations (POGOs), Sara Duterte was silent and her Senate allies absent. So, too, when President Marcos urged Congress to adopt a muscular defense of sovereignty in the West Philippine Sea.
And early this year, when the 2025 national budget proposed to gut funding for PhilHealth, threatening healthcare access for millions of poor Filipinos, Hontiveros and House leaders, like the late Edcel Lagman, sought to void the bill in bicameral talks and in the Supreme Court. The Duterte camp, on the other hand, spread gossip about “blank spaces” in the budget, deflecting charges of political corruption away from themselves.
While President Marcos has strikingly little to boast of his own term so far, a return in 2028 to Duterte-led politics would offer only sabotage and neglect. But is it equally clear, for many Filipinos, the traditional opposition is the champion of change?
Momentum, not victory
According to the midterm results, the answer is no. Or, at least, not yet. Liberal and progressive groups must take stock of their vulnerabilities alongside their gains. As several commentators have rightly pointed out, “kakampink overhope” is dangerous.
If recent history offers any lessons, it is that momentum in 2025 does not spell out victory in 2028. One can look to the resilience of President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, who weathered defeats in the 2007 midterms to finish her term. As political scientist Patricio Abinales explained in 2008, the opposition failed to maintain local links past their midterm campaigns, a move that blunted its impeachment efforts and ultimately dwarfed its public standing.
Columnist Manuel L. Quezon III in 2021 drew a similar observation of opposition coalitions, arguing that they often appear as “floating torsos: bodies with heads but no legs and feet,” those limbs being local leaders who make no permanent national commitments. Moral high ground, in sum, is no match for mobilizing the ground.
For now, the traditional opposition seems to have found their missing legs and feet. Voters rewarded Pangilinan and Aquino for organizing gut-issue campaigns, focused on improving food security and job readiness, respectively. Akbayan’s historic victory was also the result of its clear and solid platforms. Such issue-oriented strategy, in turn, won them local leaders from across the country, even cutting into municipalities usually held by the Marcoses and the Dutertes.
At the same time, gut issues also found a champion in Senator Bong Go, former president Duterte’s right-hand man. He ran on expanding his flagship Malasakit Centers, which have supplied affordable healthcare services to more than 10 million Filipinos since their launch in 2018.
On social media, former beneficiaries shared how such access saved their lives, which helped quell concerns, for some, over voting for a Duterte ally. In national surveys, too, healthcare consistently figured as a top concern. With his own slate of local endorsements, even from kakampink allies, it’s no wonder Go went on to win the most votes of any candidate, six million more than runner-up Aquino.
Challenge and opportunity
So, the traditional opposition has their work cut out for them. By facing off not only the Marcos administration, but an empowered Duterte camp, their long-term appeal will be harder won than under former president Arroyo.
Such unique challenges might call for a reimagining of political strategy, one that involves a more institutionally proactive opposition.
In the House, Leila de Lima and Chel Diokno readily joined the impeachment prosecution team, made up mostly of administration allies. Their participation will lend a seasoned and principled voice to one of government’s most critical and contentious processes.
And in the Senate, Aquino and Pangilinan’s plans to join the majority might add more life to liberal and progressive priorities. Especially so if they are given committee chairmanships. Apart from wresting away committee control from dynasts allied with the Marcoses and the Dutertes, chairmanships can spotlight certain issues, steer budget deliberations, and negotiate more forcefully with Malacañang.
In strategically positioning themselves to be relevant or significant in their own chambers despite being the minority, are they not putting up another good fight for the many Filipinos whom they promised to serve?
At the same time, as Joey Salgado wrote, victory lies in something more basic: recovering public trust. Whether Pangilinan and Aquino join the Senate majority seems less grave an abandonment of principles than failing to make good on the change they promised voters.
Liberal and progressive groups are experiencing a rare moment of return. They must realize Filipinos still hold their votes close to their chests, weighing who the “real” opposition is. – Rappler.com
Patrick Peralta is a PhD student in the Department of Political Science at the University of Michigan and a Visiting Scholar with the Center for Asian Studies at Ateneo de Manila University.
Arjan Aguirre is a PhD student in the Department of Political Science at the University of Pittsburgh and an Assistant Professor (on study leave) in the Department of Political Science at the Ateneo de Manila University.
