Politics has long been a driving force in the province of Iloilo, particularly in the Fifth District, where the name “Tupas” carries considerable weight. Once a family bound by the political legacy of former Governor Niel Tupas Sr., today, they stand as rivals in a battle for power that has put their shared history aside.
At the heart of this clash is the congressional race between Niel “Junjun” Tupas Jr., former representative of the district, and his sister-in-law Binky Tupas, the wife of current Congressman Raul Tupas.
This electoral face-off isn’t merely about political affiliations—it’s a family matter that reveals how deeply politics can divide even the most prominent of clans.
It’s not uncommon for political families in the Philippines to find themselves on opposing sides, but the Tupas feud feels especially poignant.
For years, they were united by their father’s vision of public service. Niel Sr., a respected figure in Iloilo, prided himself on clean governance and unity within the family. His children, however, seem to have diverged from that path, leading to a modern-day political rivalry.
Niel Jr. has made it clear that he considers himself the rightful heir to the family’s political legacy. His remarks about being the “original” Tupas, not one by marriage, subtly undermines Binky’s candidacy and deepens the personal nature of this contest.
It’s an argument rooted in the traditional patriarchal values of bloodlines, but in modern politics, it raises questions about the legitimacy of those who marry into powerful families. Does blood alone guarantee a better leader?
Binky, who is running to succeed her husband Raul, is no stranger to the local political arena. Her candidacy challenges the notion that family ties alone determine fitness for public office.
As a sitting board member, she has her own political track record. Her entry into the race signals that political alliances—both in family and party—are increasingly fluid, reflecting the changing dynamics of Philippine local politics.
While Niel Jr. supports his brother Raul’s bid for vice governor, the decision not to fully commit to his brother’s campaign suggests that political ambitions have overshadowed familial bonds. This balancing act between support and rivalry is emblematic of a family whose shared history is being rewritten by present-day political aspirations.
Ultimately, the Tupas family’s situation is a reminder of how the quest for power can pull even the closest relationships apart. As the election draws nearer, voters will have to decide: will they choose the Tupas by blood, or will Binky, the “tapik nga Tupas,” prove that the family name alone isn’t enough to secure victory?
In a province that once revered the unity of the Tupas dynasty, this political schism may leave a lasting impact on how future generations view both family and governance.
