Last week, while my husband and I were engaged in a lively debate about politics during a drive, our son Marco unexpectedly joined the conversation. To our surprise, he shared his understanding of John Locke’s Theory of Natural Rights and its relevance to a nation like the Philippines. We were amazed as he confidently explained that governments exist to safeguard the people's right to life, liberty, property, and the pursuit of happiness. I was especially in awe of his insights—it was both surprising and impressive to see him connect our discussion to the lessons he had learned in school.
Aristotle, in his discourse on Politics, introduced the doctrine of separation, outlining an archetypal composition of government that categorized power into three distinct branches, each “separate from and independent of each other.” This doctrine, later recognized by thinkers such as Marsiglio of Padua, Oliver Cromwell, John Locke, and Montesquieu, evolved into what is now commonly known as the separation of powers, dividing government functions among the executive, legislative, and judicial branches.
The legislative branch, composed of the Senate and the House of Representatives, holds the authority to craft, amend, and repeal laws through the power vested in the Philippine Congress. The executive branch, led by the President and Vice President, is responsible for enforcing laws passed by the legislature. Meanwhile, the judicial branch, consisting of the Supreme Court and lower courts, is tasked with resolving legal disputes and ensuring that rights are upheld and enforced.
The principle of trias politica—or the separation of powers—is an ideal foundation for governance, designed to prevent tyranny and the concentration of power in a single individual or group. This stands in stark contrast to early monarchies, where rulers wielded absolute control. In ancient Rome, for instance, the king served as Head of State, Head of Government, Commander-in-Chief, Chief Legislator, Chief Judge, and even Chief Priest, consolidating all authority under one rule.
However, as political scholar Charo Listana notes, “The separation of powers should not be interpreted as complete separation and absolute exclusion… Although the three branches are not subject to the control of one another and each is supreme within its own sphere, they remain equal and coordinate. Equal, because they all derive their powers from the same sovereign authority—the Constitution. And coordinate, because they cannot simply disregard the actions of the other branches as invalid or non-binding.”
It is evident, however, that the Philippine government has long struggled to uphold this doctrine. Instances of overreach and violations of constitutional boundaries are rampant, from local to national levels. How often have presidents exceeded their constitutional powers for personal gain? How many times have public officials manipulated legal bodies—through treachery, bribery, or coercion—to target political opponents?
Ultimately, while the separation of powers is enshrined in the Constitution, it remains an ideal—a theoretical model of governance rather than a consistently applied reality. Given this, perhaps we, as citizens, should stop merely lamenting the failures of our so-called democratic system. After all, those in power can always dismiss violations as the inevitable imperfections of governance, perpetuating a cycle where ideals are upheld in rhetoric but disregarded in practice.