Ordinarily, flaunting a luxurious lifestyle might spark admiration. After all, being part of a politically-connected construction firm could explain the shopping hauls, private jets, and a P25-million white G-Wagon.
But times have changed.
As ordinary Filipinos wade through waist-deep floodwaters and scrape by on wages that barely cover essentials, these displays no longer dazzle. What once passed as aspirational now feels like provocation, especially when that excess may be built on public money.
BicoldotPH spoke with several Bicolano youths about how the lavish lifestyles of nepo babies offend them. One of them is Claudine Co, whose family owns Hi-Tone Construction, a top contractor named by President Marcos and linked to former president Rodrigo Duterte.
Ian, 21, from Tabaco City, admitted to feeling conflicted. At first, he admired success until he realized it was inherited, not earned.
What disgusts him about families who have held power for generations is how they sleep soundly at night, “knowing people are dying because of their selfishness and obsession with serving only themselves.”
That same frustration echoes in Bianca, 21, from Camalig. She expressed outrage that her mother pays over P100,000 in taxes annually, only to watch elites flaunt wealth built on public funds. She said it’s disgusting how Filipinos continue to suffer from substandard services provided by the very system meant to serve us.
Carl Vincent Sedutan, 21, a government employee from Libon, shares this disillusionment. He questions whether his taxes truly serve the public and believes accountability is essential, especially when ordinary Filipinos continue to struggle just to make ends meet.
“The hierarchy in our system only makes the workers poorer while the powerful continue to enrich themselves,” he said.
These criticisms aren’t limited to one family or rooted in personal resentment, but rather expose a system that rewards privilege while punishing the poor.
Hershey Juan, 21, from Daraga, pointed out that minimum wage in her province can’t support a family, making living a decent life hard to achieve.
Frederick Andes, 21, from Legazpi City, likened luxury in the Philippines to winning the lottery. “Success and wealth come quickly only through illegal means,” he said.
Cedric Ansano, 21, from Camalig, agreed: You can’t obtain that lifestyle through hard work alone, unless you do something corrupt, like those alleged bad actors in their families who exploit the system.
“It’s as if she’s flaunting elitism in a country where, even if not submerged in floodwaters, is drowning in poverty,” Angelee Kaye Abelinde, a 20-year-old college student from Naga City, spoke out against the luxurious lifestyle of these nepo babies.
The testimonies are clear: luxury is unattainable for most Filipinos, not because they lack ambition, but because the system is rigged.
Scrutiny shouldn’t stop with the 15 contractors that bagged a total of P100 billion worth of flood control projects from 2022 to 2025. The Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism (PCIJ) revealed that P545 billion was poured into nearly 10,000 flood-control projects under the Marcos administration—yet flooding persists.
Curated lifestyle isolate
And yet, beneath the outrage lies something more complex than envy.
Social media doesn’t just showcase wealth; it magnifies the gap between those who have and those who never will.
Abelinde admitted feeling inadequate while scrolling through posts of opulence she knows she’ll never reach. “I have a budget of P500 a week,” she said. “That life is impossible for me.”
Patricia Almonte, 21, from Polangui, confessed to fantasizing about swiping a card without worry. “I envy them,” she said. “I can’t experience those things I see on my screen.”
For Marl Kevin Calpe, 21, from Guinobatan, the impact runs deeper. Raised to believe in hard work, he now questions whether effort alone is enough. “They have the advantage I never had,” he said. “It’s not a fair race.”
Mental health expert Tricia Zafra, editor at SubSelfie, an independent online magazine catering to the young Filipinos, warns that constant exposure to curated perfection on social media can foster unrealistic expectations and consumerism. This, she notes, can lead to feelings of inadequacy, low self-esteem, and anxiety.
Zafra sees the backlash against nepo babies not as bullying, but as a moment of reckoning. “It’s about the impact of privilege on society,” she said.
She urges young Filipinos to reassess what success truly means. Real wealth, she says, isn’t found in luxury but in kindness, purpose, and community.
By grounding themselves in offline relationships and resisting the pressure to perform online, youth can begin to reclaim their own definitions of happiness. “Balancing our online and offline worlds is key to redefining success,” she said.
This reckoning is not just overdue. It is necessary.
The legacy of excess was built long ago and continues to thrive. Long before figures like Co were called “nepo babies,” the Marcos children had already lived that reality. They were raised in comfort while most Filipinos endured poverty. Despite court rulings forfeiting billions in stolen wealth, much of it remains unrecovered.
Rodrigo Duterte followed a similar pattern, refusing to publicly release his Statement of Assets, Liabilities, and Net Worth throughout his presidency. These acts of evasion and entitlement not only limit public access but also deepen concerns over the lack of transparency during Duterte’s administration.
Their return to power is but a harsh reminder of how privilege continues to mock the everyday struggles of ordinary Filipinos.
This generation’s outrage is not only justified. It is a refusal to forget and a call to finally break the cycle.I Text by Hannah Franchezka Boragay and Jay-r Nabor, Graphics by Xyrrah Eamma Czaryna Jimenez
