Cambridge Analytica and the Philippines: The Past That Still Shapes 2028

I remember reading about the Cambridge Analytica issue back in 2016 but never really got around to writing about it. It was one of those stories that caught my interest but slipped away as other topics took over. This time, I wanted to understand what really happened—beyond the headlines, beyond the noise—so that’s what we’ll look into today.

The scandal showed how technology could quietly reshape politics, influence perception, and tilt the playing field without anyone noticing. In the Philippines, it touched the 2016 campaign of Rodrigo Duterte and left traces that continue to shape how digital campaigns are run.

As 2028 draws closer and Vice President Sara Duterte’s name surfaces in talks about the next presidential race, it’s worth revisiting how the Cambridge Analytica playbook reached our shores—and whether its influence ever truly disappeared.

What Cambridge Analytica Claimed — and What Officials Denied

Strategic Communications Laboratories, the parent company of Cambridge Analytica, once took credit for helping Rodrigo Duterte win the 2016 presidential race. Archived versions of SCL’s website, uncovered by the South China Morning Post, described how the firm supposedly “rebranded” an unnamed candidate after discovering that Filipino voters were more drawn to toughness and decisiveness than kindness and honor (South China Morning Post).

The site claimed SCL used crime as a “cross-cutting issue” to frame its client as a no-nonsense leader who embodied the values of ordinary voters. While Duterte wasn’t mentioned directly, the description left little doubt. Among the six presidential contenders that year, he was the only mayor known for a crime-centered campaign and an image built on fearlessness and control (Vice, Business Insider).

But every official linked to Duterte’s camp denied any connection. Presidential spokesperson Harry Roque said Duterte’s victory came from “overwhelming grassroots support.” Then–Finance Secretary Carlos Dominguez III, who served as campaign treasurer, stated that the team never transacted with Cambridge Analytica or paid for its services. Duterte himself brushed it off, calling the story absurd and saying he would never pay “those Cambridge fools” (Reuters, PhilStar, PNA).

To this day, no contract, invoice, or payment record has surfaced proving that Duterte’s campaign ever worked with the firm. What remains is a claim on SCL’s old website—something that could’ve been real client work or simply a marketing boast to attract attention.

The Connections That Started It All

While no formal contract has ever been proven, the trail of connections between Cambridge Analytica and figures around Rodrigo Duterte’s 2016 campaign paints a complicated picture.

In May 2015, a year before the election, Cambridge Analytica CEO Alexander Nix flew to Manila and gave a talk at the National Press Club about behavioral microtargeting, psychographic profiling, and predictive analytics. That same evening, he met with four people who would later play key roles in Duterte’s campaign—Jose Gabriel “Pompee” La Viña, Peter Tiu Laviña, Joel Sy Egco, and Ray Faizal “Taipan” Millan (South China Morning Post).

La Viña, who would become Duterte’s social media director, confirmed the meeting but said they merely attended Nix’s talk as guests. He added that they “couldn’t afford a consultant like him,” hinting that while Cambridge Analytica’s services were known, they were likely too expensive for a local campaign (South China Morning Post).

An SCL brochure from 2013 also listed Istratehiya—a political consulting firm partly owned by Millan—as the company’s Manila office. But Istratehiya president Jed Eva clarified that it was never finalized and that the firm had asked SCL to remove the reference once the deal fell through (South China Morning Post).

The missing link is still the same: there’s no record of payment or contract connecting Cambridge Analytica directly to Duterte’s campaign. What’s possible, and increasingly likely, is that some of the firm’s methods were learned, observed, and then replicated locally. Nix’s Manila presentation introduced behavioral profiling and audience segmentation at a time when the Philippine digital campaign scene was still raw. Whether or not his company was hired, those ideas took root.

The Digital Footprint That Followed

What’s undisputed is the scale of data collection that took place. Cambridge Analytica harvested information from 1,175,870 Filipino Facebook users, making the Philippines the second-most affected country after the United States. Only 558 people had installed the personality quiz app developed by researcher Aleksandr Kogan, but because of Facebook’s data-sharing rules at the time, information from their friends was also taken (Straits Times, Reuters, Privacy Commission).

The Philippine National Privacy Commission launched an investigation after Facebook confirmed the breach. Commissioner Raymund Liboro called the incident “alarming” and warned that it revealed how easily the personal data of millions of Filipinos could be exploited for political or commercial ends (Inquirer). Yet the probe never established how the data was actually used—or if it was used for local political targeting at all.

Another confirmed element was the $200,000 spent on a troll army during Duterte’s campaign. A University of Oxford study found that between 400 and 500 individuals were hired to operate fake social media accounts to promote Duterte and attack his opponents (PhilStar). Duterte later acknowledged it himself, saying, “When I was a candidate, I spent for trolls… They are the guys who were defending me,” and insisted there was nothing wrong with it since it was part of his campaign strategy (Global Voices, BusinessWorld).

What remains today is less about proof of payment and more about influence—the quiet kind that doesn’t leave paper trails but changes how campaigns are fought.

The Confirmed Disinformation Infrastructure

The troll networks that emerged in 2016 didn’t vanish when the campaign ended. They grew into something more structured—an industry built around influence, profit, and power. Researchers found that disinformation in the Philippines evolved into organized systems operating across political and commercial lines (StratComCOE Report).

The study identified four main models of disinformation production. The first involves state-sponsored operations, where government communication teams directly control propaganda work. Many creators of pro-Duterte content during the 2016 campaign were later absorbed into government posts. Reports even show that staff from the Presidential Communications Operations Office received training in China and Russia to refine their techniques (StratComCOE Report).

The second type includes in-house campaign staff—employees who manage fake accounts as part of their regular duties. They often don’t receive extra pay; instead, they do it out of loyalty or the promise of future rewards once their candidate wins.

Next are advertising and PR consultants brought in as short-term specialists. These professionals offer digital strategy services that blur ethical boundaries, sometimes rewarded later with government contracts or public appointments. This model allows campaigns to keep operations polished but still maintain plausible deniability.

The fourth type consists of clickbait operations that generate political content purely for ad revenue. These operators focus less on ideology and more on engagement metrics—anything that draws clicks earns money, regardless of accuracy.

These models often overlap, forming a full-spectrum propaganda network that spans official pages, influencer accounts, and anonymous troll clusters. By 2019, during the midterm elections, these systems had become even more coordinated, refining emotional triggers and adopting faster ways to spread misleading narratives.

The machinery born in 2016 was no longer just a campaign weapon—it had become a business model.

The Broader Context: Marcos and Historical Revisionism

The Cambridge Analytica story doesn’t end with Duterte. In 2020, whistleblower Brittany Kaiser, a former Cambridge Analytica employee, revealed that Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. had also approached the firm for help in “rebranding” his family’s image.

Kaiser explained that the work would be done in a “data-driven and scientific way,” through research that measured what people believed about the Marcoses and how those beliefs could be reshaped (Wikipedia, Vice).

Marcos’s spokesperson immediately denied the claim, calling it “patently fake, false, and misleading” (ABS-CBN). No payment records or contracts have surfaced, and Cambridge Analytica’s own archives don’t confirm any formal partnership.

Still, the results speak for themselves. Years before his 2022 presidential victory, a massive online effort was already reshaping the Marcos legacy. Studies documented the surge of pro-Marcos Facebook pages as early as 2014, coinciding with Imelda Marcos’s public remarks about wanting her son to run for president. Over time, posts portraying Martial Law as a “golden age” flooded social media feeds, particularly reaching younger Filipinos with no living memory of that period (Vice, IRGAC).

By 2022, the disinformation strategy had matured into a coordinated digital operation. Research found that 92 percent of misleading content about Marcos was positive, while 95 percent of false or distorted material about Sara Duterte also worked in her favor. In contrast, 96 percent of disinformation directed at Leni Robredo, their main rival, was negative (UP OVPPAA Study).

What began as a digital effort to manage public perception eventually turned into a larger project of rewriting the past—one that merged nostalgia, selective memory, and technology to rebuild trust where it had long been broken.

The Current Landscape: AI, Deepfakes, and Evolved Tactics

Cambridge Analytica officially shut down in 2018 after the global data scandal, but the playbook it left behind didn’t disappear. Its former executives created a new company called Emerdata in 2017, keeping much of the same leadership, including Alexander Nix and other SCL figures (Wikipedia, NPR, GMA News).

In the Philippines, the techniques Cambridge Analytica once used have evolved. Disinformation now relies on artificial intelligence, deepfake videos, and content automation.

A report from the Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism (PCIJ) identified five recurring tactics used by Duterte-aligned networks: dismissing verified facts, distorting legal or financial issues, using emotional manipulation to paint the Dutertes as victims, spreading distractions through viral entertainment-style content, and pushing conspiracy theories that frame accountability efforts as political persecution (PCIJ).

The use of AI-generated content has become especially troubling. In June 2025, Senator Bato dela Rosa, a Duterte ally, shared an AI-generated video on his official Facebook page showing a young man defending Sara Duterte against what it called “selective justice.” The video gained over 8.6 million views before being removed.

When questioned, Vice President Sara Duterte defended its use, saying there was “no problem” with sharing AI-generated material in support of political figures “as long as it’s not being used for profit” (PhilStar).

The normalization of deepfakes in political discourse is alarming. A recent study by Cyabra, a firm specializing in fake account detection, found that one-third of all X (formerly Twitter) accounts posting about Rodrigo Duterte’s arrest by the International Criminal Court were fake. These accounts produced over 1,300 posts, generating more than 7,000 engagements and reaching an estimated 11.8 million views (Reporting ASEAN).

Other analyses show how these operations extend beyond domestic politics. The Manila Times reported that China-linked troll farms were creating and amplifying pro-Duterte narratives, using fake social media accounts to sway public opinion.

In response, President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. ordered a formal investigation into suspected Chinese interference in early 2025 after intelligence reports warned that state-sponsored “keyboard warriors” were manipulating Philippine social media trends (Manila Times).

The methods may have changed, but the goal remains the same. Political influence in the digital age has simply moved from paid trolls to algorithms and artificial intelligence—faster, cheaper, and far harder to trace.

Sara Duterte and the 2028 Presidential Race

Vice President Sara Duterte continues to lead early surveys for the 2028 presidential election, though her support has softened in recent months. A WR Numero Research poll conducted between July and August 2025 showed that 31.4 percent of respondents would vote for her if elections were held immediately—down from 35.9 percent in December 2023. Leni Robredo placed second with 13.3 percent, followed by Senator Raffy Tulfo with 10.3 percent. Sara’s support remains strongest in Mindanao, where she holds 66 percent of the regional vote (Time, PhilStar Life).

She has also received her father’s blessing. During a visit to The Hague, where Rodrigo Duterte is detained by the International Criminal Court, Sara recounted that her father told her, “If you want to run, then run. He said he’ll be the first to contribute and support you” (Inquirer).

Despite her high ranking in polls, Sara’s road to 2028 has not been smooth. In February 2025, 240 members of the House of Representatives voted to impeach her over allegations of threatening to assassinate President Marcos and misusing confidential funds amounting to hundreds of millions of pesos. The Supreme Court overturned the impeachment in July 2025, ruling it unconstitutional (PCIJ).

Meanwhile, Partido Demokratiko Pilipino (PDP) has been courting her to be its standard-bearer, signaling that major political machinery is already positioning for her potential run in 2028 (Inquirer).

The stage is being set early. With her father’s endorsement, loyal networks online, and old allies resurfacing, Sara Duterte’s political future may depend not just on popularity—but on whether voters have learned from the digital playbooks that reshaped the past two elections.

Will Sara Duterte Use Similar Tactics in 2028?

Several signs suggest that Sara Duterte’s 2028 campaign could rely on digital manipulation strategies similar to those that propelled both her father in 2016 and herself in 2022.

The infrastructure that once fueled those campaigns is still intact. Many of the same influencers, consultants, and social media operators who built the Duterte brand remain active. Some transitioned into government positions during Rodrigo Duterte’s presidency and continue to manage pages with large followings. The networks that blurred the lines between official communication and online propaganda never really went away—they simply adapted to new platforms and technologies (PCIJ, StratComCOE Report).

Sara Duterte’s public stance on AI-generated political content also raises concern. When she defended the use of deepfakes and AI-assisted videos, claiming there was “no problem” with such material as long as it wasn’t for profit, she effectively endorsed a modern form of disinformation. That statement signals openness to the same kind of technological manipulation that once defined Cambridge Analytica’s work (PhilStar).

Regulation remains weak. The Commission on Elections released Resolution No. 11064 in September 2024 requiring candidates to register digital platforms and disclose the use of AI in campaign materials. But the resolution lacks strong enforcement measures, leaving a wide gap between policy and practice (NDV Law, Baker McKenzie InsightPlus).

The political stakes are enormous. Rodrigo Duterte faces charges before the International Criminal Court, while Sara is linked to controversies involving confidential funds. Winning in 2028 would grant her presidential immunity and preserve her family’s influence—strong motivation to use every available tool, digital or otherwise, to protect their legacy (Inquirer, PCIJ).

The Philippines remains fertile ground for disinformation. With around 87 million active social media users—roughly 73 percent of the population—and Filipinos ranking among the world’s top users in daily screen time, the digital landscape continues to favor speed and virality over accuracy (New Internationalist).

There are, however, new factors at play. Public awareness of disinformation is higher than ever, and fact-checking organizations are more coordinated than they were in 2016 or 2022 (PCIJ, PNA). Yet their reach still pales compared to viral propaganda networks.

The ongoing rivalry between the Marcos and Duterte camps also complicates the picture. Competing narratives from both sides flood social media, creating confusion among voters who struggle to discern truth from tactic (Al Jazeera, Manila Times). International observers, meanwhile, are keeping a closer eye on the situation after repeated reports of foreign interference (Foreign Policy).

Financial limits might be the only real restraint. If Sara Duterte’s access to campaign funding weakens due to legal or political isolation, the scale of operations could shrink. Still, as the 2016 troll army showed, even modest budgets can create massive influence when digital tools are weaponized effectively (PhilStar).

The tactics may look different in 2028—more AI, fewer trolls—but the playbook remains the same: dominate the conversation, control perception, and flood every feed before the truth can catch up.

Conclusion: Separating Facts from Claims in the Disinformation Age

The Cambridge Analytica story in the Philippines shows how easily the lines between fact, influence, and manipulation can blur. What began as a global scandal about stolen Facebook data became a blueprint for modern political warfare—one that still shapes how campaigns operate nearly a decade later.

Here’s what we know for sure. Over 1.17 million Filipinos had their Facebook data harvested by Cambridge Analytica (Privacy Commission). Around $200,000 was spent on a 400 to 500-person troll army during Duterte’s 2016 campaign (PhilStar). Cambridge Analytica’s CEO met with Duterte’s future campaign figures in 2015, and SCL’s archived website claimed credit for rebranding Duterte into a “strongman” candidate (South China Morning Post, Business Insider). All Philippine officials involved have denied any business dealings with the firm (Reuters, PhilStar).

What remains uncertain is whether Cambridge Analytica was ever formally hired or paid by Duterte’s campaign. Its boasts could’ve been based on real consulting work, exaggerated self-promotion, or indirect collaboration through intermediaries. The truth likely sits somewhere between those claims and denials.

What matters more is how the system it inspired has endured. The psychographic profiling, emotional targeting, and coordinated disinformation networks pioneered during that period didn’t fade when the company shut down—they became standard political tools.

Now, as Sara Duterte’s 2028 prospects take shape, the challenge isn’t just uncovering what happened back then—it’s recognizing how those same tactics keep evolving. AI-generated content, weak digital regulation, and high social media dependence have made manipulation easier and faster than ever.

Whether or not a Cambridge Analytica successor exists today, its influence does. The question is whether voters, institutions, and the media have learned enough to resist the next digital campaign that tries to rewrite reality.