Why the Imee Marcos Hype Never Made Sense to Me

I never understood the hype around Imee Marcos. Maybe it’s because I keep track of what politicians actually do — and what they’d rather we forget. Her “legacy” begins and ends with her last name, a name tied to theft, violence, and power kept at the expense of the country.

If you think I’m this blunt about Imee, you’re probably right to assume I feel the same way about Bongbong. I’ve already written about him. I don’t trust him, so I watch him closely. But this isn’t about him. This one is about her — her own record, her own choices, her own pattern of behavior.

The paper trail is long: academic claims that don’t hold up, a U.S. civil judgment over the torture and killing of a student, offshore accounts, committee chairs without results, and a habit of rewriting history to suit her family’s story. It’s all documented. It’s all public. And it’s why I’ve never seen her as a politician worth listening to.

Academic Dishonesty and a Credibility Problem

Imee Marcos likes to talk about her education. The problem is, the details don’t line up with the records.

Princeton University confirmed she attended — but she didn’t graduate. That’s not hearsay; it’s the school’s own statement. She even said, “Pumasok ako sa Princeton at pagkakaalam ko, nag-graduate ako” (I went to Princeton and as far as I know, I graduated), which only made the whole thing sound worse (Philstar).

Her supposed UP Law degree has the same credibility problem. In 2019, a photo made the rounds claiming to show her in the 1983 UP Law yearbook. Except it wasn’t from 1983 — it was from a commemorative book printed 25 years later. That’s the kind of “proof” that falls apart the moment someone actually checks it (ABS-CBN).

When asked directly to show documents that could clear this up, she dodged. No diplomas. No transcripts. Just more lines about how they were “sanay na” with criticism (ABS-CBN).

It’s not a small thing. For anyone in public office, the truth about something as basic as your schooling is a test of credibility. If that part of the bio can’t survive scrutiny, why would the rest of the record be any different?

Human Rights Violations and Legal Accountability

The heaviest part of Imee Marcos’s public record isn’t about policy or committee work. It’s about what happened to a 21-year-old student named Archimedes Trajano in 1977.

Trajano publicly questioned why Imee — the president’s daughter at the time — was appointed national chair of the Kabataang Barangay. Days later, he was found dead. The accounts and court documents say he was taken by her security, tortured, and killed.

In 1991, a U.S. federal court in Hawaii entered a civil judgment against her. The findings: Trajano was tortured, his death was caused by Marcos-Manotoc, and she was liable for false imprisonment, kidnapping, wrongful death, and deprivation of rights. The judgment awarded $4.16 million in damages (UMN Human Rights Library).

The Philippine Supreme Court later voided local enforcement of that judgment on a technical issue — improper service of summons — which meant the Trajano family never collected. But the U.S. court’s findings remain part of the record (Philippine Supreme Court E-Library).

For me, this isn’t just about legal procedure. A civil judgment like that is a moral scar on any public official. And the fact that she went on to build a political career without addressing it says a lot about how impunity works in this country.

Legislative Performance and Committee Leadership Failures

Imee Marcos chairs committees that matter. Labor. Foreign Relations. Cooperatives. On paper, that’s influence over jobs, international ties, and grassroots organizations (Senate Committee List). In practice, her record doesn’t show the kind of work those posts demand.

Labor rights groups have been blunt. The Center for Trade Union and Human Rights said she has never championed labor rights in her long political career. They pointed out she ignored wage hike proposals, stayed quiet on anti-endo measures, and didn’t help the families of over 200 labor activists killed under Duterte. They also noted she didn’t push for the release of political prisoners from the labor movement, even with 23 of them still detained (CTUHR).

It’s the same pattern with legislation. She’s filed bills, yes — but when you look at the outcomes, it’s hard to connect them to major wins for working Filipinos (Senate Legislative Issuances, LIS Database).

For me, chairing these committees without producing measurable results is not just wasted opportunity — it’s proof that the position was more about political clout than about the people those committees are supposed to serve.

Problematic Senate Conduct and Institutional Abuse

Imee Marcos has shown a habit of bending the Senate’s processes for her own ends. In April 2025, she tried to have a witness detained during a committee hearing without following the required procedure. Senate President Francis Escudero had to step in, warning her not to use the Senate for “personal political objectives” and reminding her about due process (Daily Tribune, Senate Press Release).

Then there was the “bogus DOJ memo” incident. During a hearing, she displayed what she claimed was a Department of Justice memorandum to back her argument. Prosecutor General Richard Fadullon, present at the hearing, said on record: “That’s a bogus document. That’s not a real document.” Whether it was incompetence in verifying evidence or a deliberate attempt to mislead, either possibility is unacceptable from a senator (YouTube – ANC Clip).

These aren’t minor slip-ups. They speak to a disregard for institutional rules and the basic responsibility to ensure that what you bring into official proceedings is legitimate. In the Senate, process matters — and when you keep skipping it, you turn the institution into a personal stage.

Policy Positions and Historical Revisionism

Some of Imee Marcos’s public statements aren’t just out of touch — they lean into rewriting history to fit a version of events that flatters her family.

She once suggested that martial law could be a solution to the country’s rice price problems. Gabriela party-list Rep. Arlene Brosas called that remark offensive to the thousands who were imprisoned, tortured, and killed under her father’s regime (Asia News Network).

Then there’s the way she talks about Masagana 99, the agricultural program from her father’s time. She calls it a success story. The data says otherwise. Former Finance Secretary Carlos Dominguez III said the program bankrupted around 800 rural banks. Research from the Philippine Institute for Development Studies confirms that the program’s financial collapse left a trail of unpaid debts and a weakened rural banking sector (PIDS).

These aren’t harmless slips or nostalgia. They’re deliberate attempts to reframe the past, selling failed or harmful policies as victories — and ignoring the damage they left behind.

Electoral Performance and Public Confidence

The 2025 Senate race showed exactly where Imee Marcos stands with voters — and it’s not the position of a strong, untouchable incumbent. She scraped into the 12th and final slot with 13,339,227 votes, a far cry from her 2019 numbers (Comelec Sets Record with Early Senate Magic 12 Proclamation, Comelec Proclaims Senate Winners, List: Magic 12 Senators Based on Official Nat’l Certificate of Canvass, Live Updates: Proclamation of 2025 Senatorial Race Winners).

She also underperformed in regions her family usually counts on. In parts of Eastern Visayas, where the Marcos name has deep roots, she failed to pull in decisive wins (Imee Fails to Get Waray Vote in Senate Run).

The late-campaign rescue from the Duterte camp was decisive context. In mid-April, Vice President Sara Duterte released a stark, all-black “ITIM” ad endorsing Imee — the same week Imee’s Senate hearing over the Duterte arrest featured a DOJ “memo” later denounced by the Prosecutor General as “bogus” (GMA News, SCMP, YouTube, Dailymotion). The endorsement and the spectacle kept Imee in the news cycle and plugged her into Duterte’s base at a critical moment.

Even so, surveys in late April still had her hovering outside the Magic 12 (13th–14th), after placing 16th the month before (Rolling Stone PH). On proclamation day, she only edged in at 12th — and she herself publicly thanked Rodrigo and Sara Duterte “who, until the last moment, campaigned for me,” a tacit admission that the Duterte machine provided the final push she otherwise lacked (My Victory Proves If You Stand for What’s Right, You Win, Imee Marcos Thanks Ex-Pres. Duterte, Skips President Marcos in Speech, Look: First Lady Imelda Marcos Accompanies Imee During Proclamation).

Despite the boost, she still finished last among winners — a sign that even with the Duterte network, Robin Padilla’s endorsement, and saturation coverage from a high-profile Senate spectacle, her own political standing remains shaky (Politiko).

The Adult Beneficiary of Stolen Wealth

Imee Marcos wasn’t a child during the years her family plundered the country. She turned 18 in November 1973 — just over a year after martial law was declared — and spent the next 13 years as a legal adult under her father’s dictatorship (Wikipedia, Inquirer). At 21, she became national chair of the Kabataang Barangay in 1977, a position she held until 1986. That job didn’t just come with political influence — it gave her control over state security resources, as the Trajano case already made clear.

Her name also appears in court-confirmed evidence of illegal wealth. In 2018, the Sandiganbayan convicted Imelda Marcos for creating and maintaining seven private Swiss foundations while in government. Two of those — the Trinidad Foundation and the Xandy Foundation — listed Imee, Bongbong, and Irene as beneficiaries (Inquirer). The Swiss Federal Supreme Court ruled in 1997 that there was “little doubt about the criminal provenance” of the accounts, and the Philippine Supreme Court in 2003 said the Marcos wealth beyond $304,000 in legal income from 1965–1986 was presumed ill-gotten. The Swiss deposits alone totaled about $683 million (World Bank Asset Recovery Watch, HR Library, Wikipedia).

The offshore trail didn’t end with her father’s death. In 2002, records from the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists showed Imee and her three sons as beneficiaries of the Sintra Trust, set up in the British Virgin Islands. The Presidential Commission on Good Government warned that if the funds came from pre-1986 Marcos deposits under freeze orders, those involved could be committing money laundering (ICIJ, Global Nation Inquirer).

None of these offshore interests appeared in her Statements of Assets, Liabilities and Net Worth. That’s not just an oversight — failing to declare assets is a possible case of perjury or tax evasion, especially when paired with her role as financial adviser for offshore entities (Inquirer Opinion, Nordis, ABS-CBN).

The longer this money stays hidden, the more it becomes an ongoing crime. The PCGG says it has recovered ₱171 billion in ill-gotten wealth — but billions more remain unrecovered, likely sitting in accounts just like the ones linked to her (HRVVMC, PCGG FOI). And she hasn’t just held on to that wealth — she’s used it to stay in power, building a political career on resources stolen from the people she now governs.

Pattern Across Decades

The moves we see from Imee Marcos today aren’t new — they’re part of a pattern that’s been there since the martial law years.

At 21, she was running the Kabataang Barangay, a youth organization that functioned less like a civic group and more like a political arm for the dictatorship. That role came with state-backed power she didn’t hesitate to use. In 1977, 21-year-old student Archimedes Trajano asked her a question during an open forum about her appointment as national chair. Days later, he was found dead. The accounts and court documents say he was taken by her security, tortured, and killed (Wikipedia, UMN Human Rights Library).

Fast-forward to her time in the Senate, and the same playbook shows up. The attempted detention of a witness without due process. Waving a DOJ “memo” in a hearing that prosecutors called “bogus” (YouTube). Turning high-profile committee hearings into political theater aligned with her allies’ interests. Even Senate President Francis Escudero had to warn her about using the chamber for personal political objectives (Daily Tribune, Senate Press Release).

Whether it’s 1977 or 2025, the through line is clear: power first, process later. Rules and institutional limits are just obstacles to get around — or tools to use when they serve her goals. And in that sense, her Senate career is less a break from her martial law years than a continuation of them.

Conclusion: A Pattern of Inadequacy

The case against Imee Marcos doesn’t rest on party lines or political grudges. It’s built on a documented history of dishonesty, abuse of position, financial concealment, and a consistent disregard for institutional rules. From questionable academic claims to a U.S. civil judgment linking her to the torture and killing of a student, from offshore accounts tied to stolen wealth to committee posts with little to show, the pattern repeats across decades.

Her political survival isn’t about merit. It’s about a last name that still pulls votes, the protection of powerful allies, and a network built on resources that should have gone back to the people. Even her narrow 2025 Senate win needed the last-minute muscle of the Duterte camp to push her over the line.

Public office demands more than a familiar name and a willingness to play the game. It demands honesty, competence, and respect for the laws and institutions that keep power in check. Imee Marcos has shown, again and again, that she falls short on all three.