History may yet repeat itself — for the Marcoses
ONE of the most enduring myths in Philippine political discourse is that Ferdinand Marcos Sr. was toppled in 1986 by a spontaneous uprising of democratic fervor, as if “people power” emerged in a vacuum, detached from material realities. That narrative, endlessly recycled by the Yellow camp and its academic echo chamber, ignores the far more decisive factor: By the time Filipinos massed on EDSA, the Philippine economy had already collapsed.
The regime had been mortally wounded not by slogans, but by a devastating economic crisis rooted in the debt explosion of the early 1980s. Even the super-elite Zobels joined Juan de la Cruz in the massive demonstrations to boot out the dictatorship.
That crisis is often lazily attributed to rising global interest rates, but the reality is more complex — and more instructive. The sharp tightening by the US Federal Reserve under Paul Volcker did dramatically raise borrowing costs, and because much of the Philippines’ external debt carried floating rates, servicing costs surged almost overnight. But this shock became lethal only because it struck an already fragile structure.
The Marcos government had accumulated large volumes of short- and medium-term foreign debt on variable rates, leaving the country highly exposed. At the same time, the global recession of the early 1980s weakened export earnings, reducing dollar inflows just as obligations were rising. The 1982 default by Mexico triggered a global credit squeeze that cut off new lending, making it difficult to roll over existing debt.
Finally, the 1983 assassination of Benigno Aquino Jr. unleashed capital flight and shattered investor confidence. In short, the interest rate shock did not by itself cause the collapse; it detonated a combustible mix of excessive borrowing, weak debt structure, falling export income, a global credit freeze, and a domestic political crisis.
The result was predictable. The peso plunged, inflation surged, GDP contracted, and unemployment worsened dramatically. By 1984-1985, the country was experiencing its worst economic downturn in the postwar era. It was this grinding collapse in living standards that eroded the regime’s legitimacy, making political upheaval not only possible but inevitable.
Economy failed
Strip away the romanticism, and the conclusion is unavoidable: Marcos fell because the economy failed, with the opposition even blaming it on the dictator’s cronies. Political opposition merely capitalized on a crisis that had already delegitimized the regime in the eyes of millions of Filipinos struggling with rising prices, joblessness and declining incomes.
What is often forgotten, however, is that Marcos Sr., even in the twilight of his rule, still had at his disposal a cadre of highly competent technocrats who attempted — however unsuccessfully in the end — to manage the crisis. Figures such as finance minister and prime minister Cesar Virata, trade and industry minister Roberto Ongpin and energy minister Geronimo Velasco were not political lightweights. They were respected in international financial circles, understood the mechanics of global finance, and had the technical capacity to negotiate with creditors and stabilize macroeconomic conditions. That they ultimately failed was due less to incompetence than to the sheer magnitude of the crisis and the political constraints under which they operated.
Compared to them, Marcos Jr.’s executives are intellectual pygmies, several even with the prime agenda of making billions of pesos in graft money.
Fast forward four decades, and the Philippines once again finds itself confronting an external shock that, while different in form, is alarmingly similar in its potential consequences. The ongoing conflict involving Iran and the disruption — actual or threatened — of traffic through the Strait of Hormuz have triggered a surge in global oil prices, exposing once more the structural weaknesses of import-dependent economies like the Philippines. Unlike major powers with strategic reserves and diversified energy sources, the country imports the overwhelming majority of its fuel requirements, making it acutely vulnerable to price shocks originating thousands of kilometers away.
The transmission mechanism of this crisis is straightforward. Rising oil prices feed directly into transport and electricity costs, which in turn cascade into higher food prices and broader inflation. As inflation accelerates, real incomes are eroded, particularly for lower- and middle-income households whose consumption baskets are heavily weighted toward essentials. At the same time, higher energy costs dampen business activity, squeezing margins and discouraging investment. The result is a toxic combination of slowing growth and rising prices — precisely the kind of “stagflationary” environment that proved so politically destabilizing in past crises.
What is particularly troubling is that the Philippines enters this period with its own set of vulnerabilities. Trade deficits remain persistent, fiscal space is constrained, and the economy’s structural dependence on imports — especially fuel — has not fundamentally changed since the 1980s. While the country’s macroeconomic management is arguably more sophisticated today, these underlying weaknesses mean that an external shock of sufficient magnitude can still produce severe domestic consequences. Early indicators already suggest the direction of travel: fuel prices have surged, inflation is breaching targets, and growth forecasts are being revised downward. Government responses, including the suspension of fuel taxes and consideration of emergency measures, reflect a recognition that the situation is not a routine fluctuation but a developing crisis.
It is even eerie that just as Marcos Sr. in the last years of his regime struggled to dispel rumors (which turned out to be true) that he had to undergo a kidney transplant, there have been persistent rumors that Marcos Jr. has a serious life-threatening disease.
Unsettling
It is at this point that the comparison becomes even more unsettling — and more damning for the present administration. If Marcos Sr. had the advantage of seasoned, globally respected technocrats attempting to steer the economy through the storm, Marcos Jr. appears to be operating with a far weaker, even corruption-tainted bench. His economic team, while carrying impressive titles, has not demonstrated the same depth of experience, intellectual rigor, or credibility in international financial circles as their predecessors. More troublingly, policymaking in the current administration often appears reactive rather than strategic, with measures announced only after pressures have already intensified. The contrast is stark: Where the earlier regime at least understood the scale and mechanics of the crisis it faced, the present one gives the impression of groping for solutions in real time.
The parallel with the 1980s therefore lies not only in the structural dynamic — an external shock interacting with domestic vulnerabilities — but also in the capacity, or lack thereof, of the state to respond effectively. In both cases, an economic downturn erodes public confidence, but the speed and severity of that erosion depend heavily on whether the government is perceived as competent and in control. When that perception is absent, crises deepen faster and political consequences arrive sooner.
Economic crises do not remain confined to balance sheets and price indices. They spill over into the political realm, reshaping alliances, intensifying rivalries and creating openings for opposition forces. The Marcos regime in the 1980s discovered that once economic hardship becomes widespread, the aura of authority dissipates rapidly. Legitimacy, which may have been maintained through a combination of patronage and narrative control, becomes fragile when everyday life becomes materially harder for the majority.
No inevitability
There is, of course, no inevitability that history will repeat itself in identical fashion. The Philippines today is more complex, more globally integrated, and institutionally different from what it was four decades ago. Yet the fundamental truth remains unchanged: No administration, however politically dominant, is immune to the destabilizing effects of a prolonged economic crisis.
What makes the current situation particularly ironic is that the Marcos political brand, having staged a remarkable comeback, is once again being tested by forces largely beyond its control — but this time without the technocratic depth that might mitigate the damage. If the oil shock persists, if inflation continues to erode purchasing power, and if growth falters significantly, the political consequences could be profound.
Many Filipinos deeply concerned about the future of the country have given up hope, wondering why the exposés of billions of pesos diverted from flood control projects, education and other crucial programs, why a totally incompetent and corrupt president haven’t unleashed such outrage as to topple this administration, why Congress has become his rubber-stamp. Sheer anger over corruption seldom if ever toppled a government.
The lesson of the 1980s is that governments fall when they preside over economic collapse. Political narratives may shape how such collapses are remembered, but they do not alter the underlying causality.
Whether history will merely rhyme or fully repeat itself remains uncertain. What is increasingly clear, however, is that the Philippines is once again entering the kind of economic storm that has, in the past, proven fatal to the erstwhile enduring Marcos dictatorship — and that this time, the son at the helm may be even less equipped to weather it.
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History may yet repeat itself — for the Marcoses
Source: Breaking News PH
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