The Enduring Legacy of ‘Colonial Mentality’ in the Collective Filipino Psyche

The roots of colonial mentality lies deeper than you thought it was. We may be an independent country now but deep inside we are not.

You probably have noticed it by now, but somehow, not been paying attention.

If a foreigner praises our English fluency, many of us beam with pride. Yet the same compliment in Tagalog, Bisaya, or Ilocano rarely gets the same sparkle in return. There is that quiet imbalance where the instinct is to value what sounds Western over what feels Filipino.

It is that faint echo of a long-lasting spell: colonial mentality.

Psychologists define it as an internalised belief that anything from the coloniser’s world (language, culture, religion, skin tone, institutions) is superior, while anything native is somehow lacking. It’s the mental residue of centuries under Spain and the United States, persisting long after flags changed and anthems were rewritten.

Some people say that we're like a chocolate bar or a coconut, we're brown on the outside but white on the inside.

Are We Really Free?

On July 4, 1946 (even the date falls on an American holiday - the Fourth of July), the United States lowered its flag over Manila, and the Republic of the Philippines was formally inaugurated as the first independent nation in post-war Asia. The ceremonies were elaborate, the speeches were stirring, and the fireworks were spectacular. Yet, as the smoke cleared and the last American diplomat departed, what remained was a nation that was free in name but still shackled in the mind in a sovereignty proclaimed from podiums but not yet internalised in the nation's psyche.

This is the central paradox of it: while the archipelago achieved formal political autonomy decades before most of its Asian neighbours, it never completed the more difficult work of psychological decolonisation. As a result, it planted that seed that remained deeply embedded in Filipino consciousness.

Unlike the neighbours, which forged robust post-colonial national identities through deliberate cultural and psychological decolonisation, the Philippines inherited a unique form of dependency that historian Daniel Immerwahr aptly describes as "the substance of annexation without actual annexation."

This article traces the deep roots and persistent branches of colonial mentality in the Filipino psyche. We begin by unearthing the forgotten sovereignty of pre-colonial Philippines, examining the independent chiefdoms that flourished before Western contact. We then analyse how Philippine "independence" was structured to maintain American influence, creating a neocolonial relationship unlike any other in Asia.

Drawing on comparative analysis, we explore how neighbouring nations successfully decolonised their identities while the Philippines remained dependent. Finally, we examine the high costs of this psychological captivity and propose pathways toward genuine decolonisation.

When We Stood On Our Own

Before colonisation, the Philippine archipelago wasn’t just empty, free real estate for Spain’s civilising hand. It was a network of independent polities: bustling port-towns, maritime kingdoms, and barangay alliances trading freely with China, Champa, and the Malay world.

Archaeological finds from the Butuan balangay boats to the Laguna Copperplate Inscription (LCI) prove organised governance, codified laws, and literate administration long before European contact. These artefacts dismantle the colonial myth that “civilisation” began with the cross and the sword.

Tondo, based along the Pasig River delta, functioned as a major trading centre tied to China and Brunei. Butuan, in northern Mindanao, issued its own gold currency and maintained diplomatic relations with the Song dynasty as early as the 10th century. Sugbu (Cebu), ruled by Rajah Humabon, was a thriving entrepôt whose influence stretched across the Visayas.

Indigenous Political and Economic Systems

Beyond individual kingdoms, pre-colonial Philippines operated under coherent systems that enabled independent governance and economic prosperity without Western models.

Each polity had its own ruler (datu, rajah, or lakan) and systems of tribute, law, and kinship that reflected both autonomy and alliance. In short, the archipelago already understood power, diplomacy, and economy long before any coloniser redrew its map.

The barangay was actually the fundamental unit of governance, typically comprising 30 to 100 families under a datu. Unlike European feudal lords, datus ruled through a combination of inherited authority, personal charisma, and demonstrated competence in leadership. Their power derived from their ability to protect their followers, settle disputes, and organise collective labour for agriculture and defence.

What made the barangay system remarkable was its adaptability. In coastal areas, it functioned as maritime trading units; in interior regions, as agricultural collectives. The datu's authority was absolute but not arbitrary, as customary law (adat) constrained power, and subjects could transfer their allegiance to another datu if they felt oppressed. This created a form of political accountability centuries before European Enlightenment philosophy. The system enabled the archipelago to sustain millions of inhabitants, manage complex irrigation systems for rice cultivation, and maintain internal peace without a centralised state bureaucracy.

Complex Trade Networks

Pre-colonial Filipinos were integral nodes in the Indian Ocean and South China Sea trading networks. Archaeological evidence reveals extensive commerce:

• China: Export of gold, pearls, tortoise shells, and medicinal plants; import of porcelain, iron tools, and silk
• Japan: Trade in metal implements and pottery
• Southeast Asia: Exchange of spices, aromatic woods, and slaves for Indian textiles and glass beads
• Middle East: Arab merchants traded for Filipino products, as evidenced by Islamic artifacts found in coastal burial sites

This commerce was not mere barter but sophisticated exchange using standardised weights, measures, and credit systems. The LCI itself references a debt of gold and the legal mechanisms for its discharge as proof of financial instruments and contractual law operating in 10th-century Luzon.

Indigenous Legal Systems

The bud-bud (Visayan) or budhi (Tagalog) system of customary law governed social relations with remarkable sophistication. These unwritten codes regulated marriage, inheritance, debt, and warfare. Offences were compensated through negotiated payments rather than incarceration, which is a restorative justice model that prioritised community harmony over punishment. The existence of such systems contradicts colonial-era claims that Filipinos had no law before Spanish arrival.

Religious and Philosophical Systems

Pre-colonial Filipinos possessed a distinct religious consciousness that blended animism with influences from Hindu-Buddhist traditions. The diwata (spirit) hierarchy mirrored the social structure, with powerful nature spirits requiring propitiation through ritual. Burial practices, evidenced by the Manunggul Jar and other artifacts, reveal sophisticated cosmological beliefs about the afterlife.

Crucially, this religious system was entirely indigenous. While influenced by Indian and Islamic ideas through trade, it remained authentically Filipino, integrated with agricultural cycles, social obligations, and moral teachings. The Spanish did not replace "paganism" with Christianity; they replaced one sophisticated belief system with another, erasing the former's legitimacy through systematic demonisation.

The Philippine Golden Age

The period from roughly 900 to 1521 CE represents what historian William Henry Scott termed the "Philippine golden age", which was a time of expanding trade, population growth, and cultural fluorescence. Filipino craftsmen produced textiles that competed with Indian imports, goldwork that astonished Chinese traders, and pottery that was exported throughout the region. The archipelago's population likely exceeded one million, supported by intensive rice agriculture, maritime fishing, and sophisticated resource management.

Literacy and Craft Industries

Contrary to colonial propaganda about "illiterate natives," multiple writing systems existed across the archipelago. The Baybayin script was widespread in Luzon and Visayas, used for poetry, commerce, and record-keeping. The Hanunó'o and Buhid scripts of Mindoro, preserved to this day by the Mangyan peoples, demonstrate unbroken literary traditions. Spanish friars systematically destroyed indigenous texts, burning them as "works of the devil," yet fragments survived in the journals of early missionaries who recorded native poetry and oral epics.

Filipino metallurgy was equally advanced. The Banaue rice terraces, which were built centuries before Spanish arrival using stone and earthworks without modern tools, represent engineering genius. Goldsmiths created filigree work of breathtaking delicacy, blacksmiths produced swords that matched Japanese katana in quality, and weavers created textiles using complex ikat techniques.

This forgotten sovereignty matters because it reveals the magnitude of what was lost, not just political independence, but a complete, functioning civilisation. When contemporary Filipinos view themselves as "behind" or "less than," they suffer from historical amnesia about their ancestors' achievements. Colonial mentality requires the erasure of this pre-colonial greatness; its persistence depends on the myth that Filipinos were always dependent, always in need of foreign guidance.

The independent chiefdoms of Tondo, Butuan, and Sugbu were not anomalies. They were part of a regional pattern of maritime Southeast Asian states that successfully governed themselves, created wealth through trade, and maintained distinct cultural identities. Their subjugation was not inevitable; it was achieved through superior European military technology, devastating diseases, and centuries of violent suppression. Recognising this history is the first step toward healing the colonial wound, for it proves that independence is not a gift from former colonisers but a restoration of an ancient Filipino condition.

The Paradox of Independence

The Philippine Revolution of 1896-1898 represented the first successful anti-colonial uprising in Asia. Under the leadership of the Katipunan, a secret society founded by Andrés Bonifacio and later commanded by Emilio Aguinaldo, Filipinos fought a brutal war of liberation, establishing the First Philippine Republic in Malolos in January 1899.

This was not a revolt for reform or autonomy within the empire but a declaration of radical sovereignty, a restoration of the independent chiefdoms that had existed before 1521. The Malolos Constitution created a democratic republic with separation of powers, a bill of rights, and universal male suffrage, making it one of Asia's most progressive governments of its era.

The Short-Lived Freedom

But the revolutionaries' victory was immediately betrayed. The Spanish-American War of 1898 provided the United States with a pretext to intervene, and at the Treaty of Paris, Spain "sold" the Philippines to America for $20 million without consulting the Filipinos, who had already liberated 90% of their territory. When Aguinaldo's government attempted to exercise sovereignty, U.S. forces responded with overwhelming military force.

The Philippine-American War (1899-1902) and the subsequent "pacification campaigns" resulted in the deaths of an estimated 200,000 to 1 million Filipino civilians through combat, disease, and systematic atrocities, including concentration camps and scorched-earth tactics.

This betrayal was more than a geopolitical crime; it was a psychological rupture. The revolution had proven that Filipinos were capable of self-government, yet this proof was violently suppressed and replaced with the colonial narrative that independence was premature, that Filipinos were unprepared for democracy, and that American tutelage was necessary.

As historian Daniel Immerwahr observes, the United States "didn't just defeat the Philippine Republic; it erased the fact that the republic had ever existed as a viable state." This erasure made colonial mentality possible by denying that Filipinos had ever successfully governed themselves; the American colonial project could position itself not as an interruption of sovereignty but as its prerequisite.

The Americans in Charge

The American colonial administration, unlike its Spanish predecessor, masterfully combined material development with psychological subjugation. The United States built schools, roads, and democratic institutions, but always within a framework that ensured Philippine subservience to American strategic and economic interests. This created a neocolonial arrangement more sophisticated than direct rule.

The Tydings-McDuffie Act of 1934 exemplified this conditional independence. While promising sovereignty after a ten-year "Commonwealth" period, the act imposed numerous restrictions that would persist beyond independence:

• The Philippines would adopt a constitution acceptable to the U.S. President
• The U.S. would retain military bases and the right to recruit Filipino soldiers
• American citizens and corporations would receive preferential treatment
• The Philippine peso would remain pegged to the U.S. dollar
• Trade would be governed by reciprocal tariffs that favoured American exports

Crucially, the act stipulated that independence could be postponed if conditions were deemed "unstable", a perpetual threat that hung over the Filipino elite, conditioning their behaviour toward continued American approval. This was not independence; it was independence as a reward for good behaviour, to be granted only when it served American interests.

The Commonwealth period (1935-1946) reinforced this dependency. President Manuel Quezon, despite his nationalist rhetoric, governed under the constant supervision of a U.S. High Commissioner. The Philippine Army was trained and equipped by Americans, its officers educated at West Point. The education system, modelled on American curricula, produced a generation of English-speaking elites who viewed their own culture through American eyes. The infrastructure built during this period was designed to integrate the Philippine economy with American markets, not to create self-sufficient domestic production.

World War II provided the final twist. Japanese occupation devastated the Philippines, but American "liberation" reconquered the country primarily to secure it as a Pacific base. The destruction of Manila in 1945, one of the war's most brutal urban battles, left the new republic physically shattered and psychologically primed for continued dependence. When independence finally arrived on July 4, 1946 (a date chosen to mirror American independence, not a historically significant Filipino date), it was celebrated as liberation. In reality, it was a managed transition from colonial status to a neocolonial client state.

The Post-Independence Dependence Syndrome

The Philippines did not merely accept neocolonial economic structures, it embraced them by transforming dependency into a national development strategy. While other post-colonial nations nationalised colonial industries or built protectionist walls, the Philippines maintained an economic system that systematically extracted wealth for foreign benefit, a pattern that continues to generate what critics call "ripping-off" through unequal exchanges where the Philippines provides high-value resources and labour while receiving low-value manufactured goods and deteriorating terms of trade.

The Parity Rights Rip-Off

On paper, the Philippines became the first Southeast Asian nation to gain independence after the Second World War. But the conditions that came with it, such as the Bell Trade Act of 1946, tethered the new republic to U.S. interests. American companies retained equal rights to exploit natural resources, while tariffs and quotas kept the local economy dependent on the export of sugar, coconut, and minerals.

Economist Gerardo Sicat later observed that the Act “institutionalised dependence rather than partnership,” ensuring that the archipelago remained a supplier of raw goods rather than a producer of finished ones. In other words, we changed masters, not habits.

The Laurel-Langley Agreement of 1955 institutionalised economic dependence through several mechanisms:

• Parity rights: American citizens and corporations received the same rights as Filipinos to exploit natural resources and operate public utilities, which is a constitutional provision forced on the Philippines as a condition for receiving war reconstruction funds
• Reciprocal free trade: Philippine exports entered the U.S. duty-free, but American-manufactured goods flooded the Philippine market, destroying infant industries
• Currency peg: The peso remained tied to the dollar, making Philippine monetary policy subservient to U.S. Federal Reserve decisions

American mining companies extracted billions of dollars in gold, copper, and chromite while paying royalties of only 2-5% to the Philippine government. By 1972, American firms controlled 60% of mining output, 80% of export agriculture, and 100% of petroleum refining. The profits were repatriated to the U.S., while the environmental devastation (deforestation, river pollution, coral reef destruction) remained in the Philippines.

When the Parity Amendment expired in 1974, Ferdinand Marcos simply replaced it with the Investment Incentives Act, which granted foreign corporations tax holidays, duty-free importation, and full profit repatriation. This was not pragmatic openness to investment; it was a continuation of colonial-era extraction disguised as development policy.

The result was what economist Walden Bello terms "the political economy of permanent dependency," where Filipino capitalists became "compradors," middlemen who enriched themselves by facilitating foreign exploitation rather than building indigenous industry.

These arrangements transformed the Philippines into a primary commodity exporter and manufactured goods importer, which is a classic colonial economic relationship disguised as free trade. American corporations extracted billions in profits from Philippine mining, logging, and agriculture while paying minimal taxes.

Filipino entrepreneurs were crowded out, and economic diversification was stifled. The result was what economist James Boyce calls "the political economy of external dependence," where domestic elites enriched themselves by serving as middlemen for foreign capital.

The Import Substitution Failure

The 1950s-60s import substitution industrialisation (ISI) strategy reveals how dependence was structurally embedded. ISI theoretically aims to replace imported manufactured goods with domestic production, building industrial capacity behind protective tariffs. In theory, this should have diversified the economy and reduced dependence. In practice, the Philippine ISI failed because the state protected assembly operations while allowing foreign corporations to import components duty-free. Philippine "industrialists" merely assembled foreign parts by adding minimal local value while paying heavy royalties for foreign technology.

Meanwhile, export agriculture remained dominated by American corporations. Del Monte and Dole controlled pineapple plantations, using Filipino workers at wages below subsistence while selling canned fruit to the U.S. at below-market prices through quota agreements that benefited American consumers. The Philippines exported raw materials and low-value products, importing high-value finished goods, the classic colonial trade pattern that ISI was supposed to reverse.

The failure was psychological as much as structural. Filipino policymakers could not imagine industrialisation without American technology, capital, and market access. When South Korea and Taiwan launched successful ISI programs in the 1960s, they did so by restricting foreign ownership and forcing technology transfer. The Philippines did the opposite, welcoming American joint ventures that ensured technological dependence. The colonial mentality framework explains this: Filipino elites did not believe they could build modern industry without American validation and partnership, so they accepted deals that preserved American dominance.

Export-Oriented Dependence

By the 1980s, the IMF and World Bank pressured the Philippines to abandon ISI for export-oriented industrialisation (EOI), following the model of Asian Tiger economies. But while South Korea and Taiwan used EOI to build indigenous brands (Samsung, Hyundai, Acer), the Philippines became a platform for foreign assembly operations. The export processing zones (EPZs) created under the Marcos regime and expanded by subsequent administrations offered foreign corporations tax-free status, subsidised utilities, and restrictions on labour unions. Workers in EPZs earned below minimum wage while assembling garments, semiconductors, and electronics for American and Japanese brands.

This was not development; it was contract manufacturing that reinforced technological dependence. The Philippines exported the labour value while foreign firms captured the brand value, design profits, and technological rents. By 2019, the Philippines' top exports were still integrated circuits and semiconductor devices—components shipped to China for final assembly, then exported under American, Korean, or Japanese brands. The country remained, in economist Joseph Lim's words, "a production appendage rather than an innovation center."

The Brain Drain as Colonial Export

Perhaps the most devastating economic manifestation of colonial mentality is the systematic export of human capital - the "brain drain" that transforms education into a subsidy for Western economies. The Philippines produces world-class nurses, engineers, doctors, and teachers, yet cannot retain them because colonial mentality structures the domestic economy to devalue Filipino expertise while overvaluing Western opportunity.

The nursing exodus exemplifies this. The Philippines trains approximately 20,000 nurses annually, yet 85% emigrate within five years of graduation. This is rational individual choice as Filipino nurses earn ₱30,000-40,000 ($600-800) monthly at home versus $5,000-8,000 in the U.S. But it is also a structurally engineered dependency. The U.S. actively recruits Filipino nurses, having established a colonial education system (starting with the Pensionado Act of 1903) that oriented medical training toward American standards. The Philippine economy depends on remittances ($33 billion in 2022, 8% of GDP), creating a perverse incentive to export rather than employ skilled workers. Policymakers celebrate overseas Filipino workers (OFWs) as "heroes," but this rhetoric masks a failure to create domestic opportunities that would validate Filipino credentials at home.

More insidiously, the brain drain reinforces colonial mentality. The best and brightest leave, proving to those who remain that success requires Western validation. An engineer who stays in the Philippines is suspected of lacking ambition; a nurse who works in a provincial hospital is seen as settling for less. The narrative becomes: "If you're truly talented, you leave; if you stay, you prove your mediocrity." This self-fulfilling prophecy ensures that local institutions never accumulate the critical mass of talent needed to challenge dependency.

Military Subjugation

Formal independence did not end American military presence; it was restructured through unequal treaties.

The Military Bases Agreement of 1947 granted the U.S. 99-year leases on 23 military installations, including the massive Clark Air Base and Subic Bay Naval Base. These were not mere facilities; they were sovereign American territories within the Philippines, exempt from Philippine law and taxation, where U.S. military personnel committed crimes with impunity. The bases ensured that Philippine foreign policy could never deviate from American strategic interests—any threat to close them would trigger economic retaliation.

The 1951 Mutual Defense Treaty formalised this subservience by compelling the Philippines to consult the United States before engaging in any significant diplomatic or military action. During the Cold War, this meant automatic Philippine support for U.S. interventions in Korea, Vietnam, and elsewhere, which were wars that served the American foreign policy while draining Philippine resources and lives. The treaty created what political scientist Claude Ake termed "the politics of dependency," where national security was outsourced to the former coloniser.

The bases were not mere facilities but colonial enclaves that signalled continued subordination. The bases served U.S. strategic interests in projecting power across Asia during the Cold War, while the Philippines assumed the risks by becoming a target for Soviet or Chinese retaliation without controlling the weapons that would invite attack.

The 1991 Philippine Senate vote to reject base renewal is often cited as a triumph of sovereignty. But the aftermath reveals the persistence of dependence. The U.S. withdrawal created an economic crisis in Central Luzon and Olongapo, where entire economies had been built around servicing American soldiers.

Politically, U.S. influence endured through military bases and mutual defence treaties: Clark, Subic, and later the Visiting Forces Agreement (VFA) and Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement (EDCA). Each time Manila sought to assert autonomy, Washington’s shadow loomed large, promising protection but also shaping policy. Even our post-war constitution bore American fingerprints: presidential system, bicameral legislature, and a legal framework modelled on theirs.

The Pawn in Pacific Strategy

The Philippines functions as a forward operating location for U.S. power projection against China. This is not a strategic partnership of equals; it is subcontracted geopolitics. The Philippines provides territory, manpower, and diplomatic support while the U.S. determines strategy, deploys assets, and makes decisions about war and peace that affect Filipino lives. The Mutual Defense Treaty obligates the U.S. to defend the Philippines, but American diplomats have repeatedly stated that treaty obligations are discretionary—"we will respond according to our constitutional processes," which means Washington decides if and when to help.

This strategic subordination manifests in dangerous ways. When the U.S. pivoted to Asia during the Obama administration, the Philippines was expected to serve as its "unsinkable aircraft carrier." Filipino naval forces conduct "freedom of navigation" patrols in the South China Sea that serve American interests in containing China, yet the Philippines bears the brunt of Chinese retaliation—illegal fishing incursions, harassment of Filipino fishermen, and militarisation of contested reefs.

The U.S. provides rhetorical support but no material guarantee that it would go to war with China over Philippine territorial claims. As political scientist Richard Javad Heydarian notes, the Philippines is "allied with the United States but not protected by it", a classic neocolonial condition where risks are local but benefits are imperial.

Automatic Alignment with American Foreign Policy

Philippine foreign policy has historically been indistinguishable from American foreign policy. During the Cold War, the Philippines sent troops to Korea (1950-53) and Vietnam (1964-69), wars that served no Philippine strategic interest but validated the "special relationship." When the U.S. invaded Iraq in 2003, the Philippines contributed a "humanitarian" contingent despite domestic opposition, earning the dubious distinction of being part of the "Coalition of the Willing." Even after the 1991 base closure, the Philippines remained a "major non-NATO ally," a status that meant automatic diplomatic support for American positions at the United Nations.

This alignment is not pragmatic balancing; it is a psychological reflex. When the U.S. State Department criticises a Philippine policy, Filipino officials scramble to adjust rather than engage in diplomatic pushback. When the U.S. praises Philippine "democracy" (regardless of actual democratic conditions), Filipino leaders trumpet this validation domestically. The 2016 presidential campaign saw candidates competing to demonstrate who had stronger American connections, with one candidate publicly releasing photos of his meeting with a U.S. senator as proof of his international stature. In no other sovereign nation does approval from a former coloniser remain so central to domestic political legitimacy.

The "Special Relations" Myth

Perhaps the most insidious mechanism of neocolonial control was the ideological construct of "special relations", which is the narrative that the U.S. and the Philippines shared a unique bond based on shared values, historical ties, and American altruism. This mythology served several functions:

• It normalised unequal treaties by framing them as a mutual partnership
• It delegitimised nationalist critics as "ungrateful" or "anti-American"
• It created a psychological expectation that Filipino progress required American guidance

Successive Philippine presidents internalised this narrative, measuring their legitimacy by their proximity to American power. Official visits to Washington, D.C. became essential rituals of validation, where presidents from Roxas to Marcos sought and received American blessings for their regimes. The U.S. did not need military force to enforce compliance; Filipino elites policed themselves, seeking constant approval from the former coloniser.

This validation-seeking behaviour extended to every sphere of national life. Filipino academics sought American PhDs for credibility, artists needed American gallery exhibitions for recognition, and policy proposals required World Bank or IMF endorsement to be taken seriously domestically.

The result was what sociologist C Wright Mills, writing about post-colonial societies, called "the submission of the colonised mind", a condition where even the thought of genuine independence becomes unimaginable.

The contrast with Asia's other post-colonial nations is stark. While our neighbours built indigenous institutions and consciously rejected neocolonial relationships, the Philippines remained locked in what historian Nick Cullather describes as "America's empire of the mind." This was not merely a failure of political will; it was the successful fulfilment of American colonial policy, which had designed independence to perpetuate dependence.

The Psychology of Internalised Oppression

Colonial mentality is not merely a cultural preference or an individual personality trait; it is a specific form of internalised oppression that functions as a measurable psychological construct.

Dr. David provides empirical validation for what previous generations of Filipino intellectuals had described anecdotally. In their seminal 2006 study published in Cultural Diversity and Ethnic Minority Psychology, David and colleagues identify colonial mentality as "a specific consequence of centuries of colonisation" that creates distinct patterns of cognition, affect, and behaviour among Filipino Americans and, by extension, among Filipinos in the homeland.

The construct comprises multiple dimensions that operate synergistically:

• Cultural worthlessness: A deep-seated belief that Filipino culture, traditions, and ways of being are inherently inferior to Western alternatives
• Cultural/somatic shame: Disdain for one's physical features (skin colour, nose shape, body type) and cultural practices that mark one as "not White"
• Automatic cultural/somatic devaluation: The reflexive tendency to view anything Filipino-made or Filipino-looking as lower quality
• Colonial debt: A sense that Filipinos owe gratitude to their former colonisers for "civilisation" and progress
• Denial/minimisation of oppression: The tendency to downplay the severity of colonial exploitation or to view it as ultimately beneficial

These dimensions are not abstract attitudes; they correlate with measurable mental health outcomes. David's 2008 study, developing a "colonial mentality model of depression", found that internalised colonial oppression predicts depressive symptoms above and beyond other stressors, suggesting that self-hatred functions as an independent pathogenic factor.

The mechanism of transmission operates through what psychologists call intergenerational trauma. Colonial mentality is not learned through explicit teaching but through subtle daily reinforcements across generations.

Parents who praise light-skinned children over darker siblings, teachers who mock students for speaking English with a "Filipino accent," media that glorify Western celebrities while ignoring Filipino achievers, and politicians who quote American presidents more readily than Filipino heroes all create a cumulative conditioning effect. Children internalise these messages as truth about their inherent worth, forming what Paulo Freire calls a "colonised consciousness" that polices itself for deviance from Western norms.

This internalisation serves a psychological function: it reduces cognitive dissonance. Faced with the contradiction between the colonial narrative of Filipino inferiority and the reality of one's own competence, the colonised mind resolves the tension by accepting the narrative.

As David explains, "If the coloniser is believed to be superior, and if the coloniser's oppression is believed to be deserved or normal, then it becomes easier to accept one's subjugated status without experiencing debilitating anger or cognitive dissonance." This self-blame becomes a maladaptive coping mechanism, protecting against the despair of recognising systemic injustice while creating chronic psychological wounds.

Manifestations in Filipino Society

The colonial mentality construct manifests across every domain of contemporary Filipino life, creating what sociologist Johnspin Carmona calls "the architecture of self-colonisation."

Elitism and Cultural Cringe

The term "cultural cringe," coined by Australian critic A.A. Phillips to describe colonial insecurity, finds its fullest expression in the Filipino elite. For this class, Western validation is the ultimate currency of legitimacy. A Filipino CEO gains more credibility by mentioning his Harvard MBA than by demonstrating successful management of a local conglomerate.

A politician's speech becomes more authoritative when peppered with quotes from American presidents rather than Filipino heroes. Even revolutionary organisations like the Communist Party of the Philippines frame their analyses using Marx, Lenin, and Mao while struggling to integrate indigenous perspectives.

This cringe manifests in institutional practices. The Supreme Court of the Philippines routinely cites American jurisprudence, even when deciding cases involving purely Filipino contexts. The University of the Philippines, the nation's premier state university, uses English as its primary medium of instruction not because it is pedagogically optimal, but because it signals world-class status. Filipino architects win awards by building glass-and-steel towers that imitate Singaporean or American designs, while indigenous architectural traditions are dismissed as "provincial."

Identity and Self-Perception

Walk through any shopping mall and you’ll see it: whitening creams promising “instant confidence,” English-only job ads, and the reverent way we pronounce foreign brand names. And even calling everyone "mamsir" smells like the fresh air of subservience. These aren’t quirks of taste, they’re symptoms of internalised hierarchy.

David's Colonial Mentality Scale, which he used to test among Filipino-Americans, has shown links of this bias to lower self-esteem and feelings of cultural shame. Among Filipinos in the homeland, this plays out subtly:

• Parents brag more about a child working abroad than one thriving locally.
• Students who speak fluent English are often seen as smarter or more “refined.”
• Lighter skin remains an unspoken beauty ideal, even as we joke about being “kayumanggi and proud.”

It’s a social code learned over generations: the unspoken rule that Western equals better.

Title and Credential Obsession

People are obsessed with their titles and credentials since Spanish times with the Don and Doña before their name. Soon, people scrambled to have the Dr., Engr., Atty., and Hon. before their names.

The preference for Western academic credentials operates as a caste system. A Filipino Ph.D. from a local university is automatically ranked below an American master's degree holder. Government agencies, corporations, and universities offer higher salaries and faster promotion to employees with foreign degrees, creating a brain drain even within the country. Talented scholars leave the local academe to earn American credentials, not because the education is superior, but because the credential carries validation weight.

This creates a perverse cycle. Filipino universities cannot retain top faculty because they cannot compete with the prestige of foreign institutions. Consequently, they cannot build research excellence that would challenge Western academic dominance.

The result is what sociologist Randy David calls "intellectual tutelage"—the perpetuation of a system where Filipino knowledge is validated only when it conforms to Western academic fashions. A research paper on Philippine poverty is more likely to be published if it uses American statistical models than if it employs indigenous methods of understanding deprivation. The Western theoretical framework becomes the standard, and Filipino reality is forced to fit it.

The Economics of Self-Denigration

In Filipino consumer culture, the label "imported" functions as an automatic quality marker, while "local" or lokal carries connotations of cheapness and unreliability. Middle-class families will pay premium prices for American brands of milk, detergent, and cosmetics even when chemically identical Filipino products are available at half the cost. This behaviour cannot be explained by rational consumer choice: it is a performance of status that signals sophistication and proximity to Western modernity.

The skin-whitening industry in the Philippines exemplifies somatic colonial mentality. Valued at over $2 billion annually, it markets products with names like "Fair & Lovely," "White Perfect," and "Snow Caps," promising to erase the melanin that marks one as Filipino.

Television advertisements feature narratives where dark-skinned women gain employment, romance, and social acceptance only after becoming visibly lighter. This is not merely aesthetic preference; it is the internalisation of racial hierarchies where whiteness equals opportunity and brownness equals obstacle. The fact that many of these products contain dangerous levels of mercury and hydroquinone, causing long-term skin damage, does not diminish their popularity; the psychological need for validation outweighs physical health risks.

Linguistic Colonialism

Language use reveals deep hierarchies. English remains the language of power, education, and sophistication, while Filipino languages are relegated to informal, domestic, or "crude" contexts. Filipino parents speak English to their children as a sign of modern parenting, creating generations who think in English while struggling to express complex emotions in their ancestral tongues. The phenomenon of "carabao English," mocking those who speak English with Filipino syntax, polices language and reinforces shame about linguistic heritage.

A De La Salle University study found that many college students equate English with intelligence and global competence, while viewing local languages as markers of provinciality. That bias starts early, reinforced by schools that penalise “vernacular use” and reward polished English diction.

This extends to code-switching patterns called "Taglish," which is not a creative hybrid but often a marker of insecurity. Filipinos insert English words into Filipino sentences to signal education and worldliness, even when perfectly adequate Filipino terms exist. When a Filipino says "I'm so stressed na with my deadlines", instead of using equivalent Filipino words, they are not merely being pragmatic; they are performing a colonial identity where English concepts carry more legitimacy than indigenous ones.

Cultural Erasure and Appropriation

Colonial mentality creates what post-colonial theorist Gayatri Spivak calls "epistemic violence", the delegitimisation of indigenous knowledge systems. Filipino traditional medicine (arbularyo), agricultural practices, and conflict resolution methods are dismissed as "superstitious" or "backward," even when they have proven effective for centuries. Meanwhile, Western science rediscovers these practices (e.g., the anti-inflammatory properties of lagundi, the sustainable logic of kaingin agriculture), rebrands them, and sells them back to Filipinos as modern innovations.

In academia, Filipino scholars often face pressure to publish in Western journals to gain tenure, forcing them to frame Philippine issues using Western theoretical frameworks rather than developing indigenous methodologies. A study on Filipino family dynamics must cite American psychologists like Freud or Bowen to be considered legitimate; referencing Filipino theorists like Virgilio Enriquez's Sikolohiyang Pilipino risks marginalisation in "mainstream" discourse.

The Validation-Seeking Syndrome

Perhaps the most visible manifestation is what might be called the "international approval addiction." Filipinos celebrate when a Filipino singer appears on The Voice, when a Filipino chef wins a James Beard Award, or when a Filipino film is nominated for an Oscar, not simply as achievements, but as validations that Filipino talent is worthy of Western recognition. The Manny Pacquiao phenomenon illustrates this: his boxing victories were celebrated not just as athletic triumphs but as proof that Filipinos could defeat Americans at their own game, thereby earning global respect.

This extends to political behaviour. Philippine presidents routinely seek meetings with U.S. presidents to legitimise their administrations domestically. Foreign policy decisions are filtered through the question: "What will Washington think?" When President Duterte attempted to pivot toward China, he was condemned by the Filipino elite not primarily for strategic reasons, but for betraying the "special relationship", the psychological umbilical cord to American approval.

The mass-mediated obsession with international awards reveals how validation-seeking has become a national psychosis. When Filipino boxer Manny Pacquiao defeated Oscar De La Hoya in 2008, the nation erupted in celebration not just for sporting victory, but because a Filipino had defeated an American icon, thereby earning global respect. Pacquiao's subsequent political career demonstrates the transitive property of colonial mentality: his legitimacy as a senator derived not from legislative achievement but from his capacity to generate international validation through boxing.

Beauty pageants operate similarly. The Philippines' obsession with Miss Universe, Miss World, and Miss International crowns (the country has won four Miss Universe titles) reflects a desire for Western aesthetic validation. When Pia Wurtzbach won Miss Universe 2015, her victory was framed as proof that "Filipina beauty is world-class", the implicit assumption being that Western standards define beauty and Filipino worth must be measured against them. The fact that most Filipinas do not resemble the mestiza features celebrated in these pageants creates a feedback loop where the "ideal" Filipino is one who approximates Western appearance.

The Colonial Mentality Model of Depression

Research pioneered by Dr. E. J. R. David at the University of Alaska Anchorage provides a clinical framework for understanding the mental health costs of this validation-seeking. The "colonial mentality model of depression" posits that individuals who internalise colonial oppression experience chronic identity conflict. They are torn between their authentic cultural self and the colonised self they perform to gain acceptance. This creates what David terms "cultural dissonance depression", a condition where the effort to suppress indigenous identity and adopt alien standards generates persistent dysphoria.

The model identifies three pathways to depression:

• Self-denigration: Constantly measuring oneself against Western standards leads to chronic feelings of inadequacy
• Interpersonal alienation: Disconnection from one's cultural community creates social isolation
• Learned helplessness: Believing that colonial structures are immutable leads to passive acceptance of oppression

These mechanisms operate at both individual and national levels. The Philippines as a nation experiences "cultural dissonance depression", the tension between its historical sovereignty and its neocolonial present. National pride becomes conditional upon external validation; without American praise, the nation feels worthless. This explains the paradox: Filipinos are individually proud and resilient, yet collectively insecure, constantly seeking international rankings (World Bank ease-of-doing-business, Transparency International corruption index, Credit Suisse wealth reports) to validate national progress.

Social Media and the Validation Economy

The digital age has amplified colonial mentality through what might be called "neocolonial virality." Filipino content creators achieve fame by performing American or Korean aesthetics—speaking English with a neutral accent, reviewing American products, and adopting Korean beauty routines. A Filipino TikToker who mimics American dance trends gains followers; one who promotes indigenous dance remains niche. The algorithmic preference for Western content creates a feedback loop where Filipino creators self-colonise, producing what they believe will gain international approval rather than expressing authentic Filipino culture.

Even progressive activism falls into this trap. Filipino social justice advocates frame their causes using American terminology ("intersectionality," "microaggressions," "safe spaces") to gain traction with Western audiences, inadvertently making their movements less accessible to the Filipino masses who don't speak academic English. The validation comes from Western retweets and shares, not from building grassroots solidarity in Filipino languages.

The Philippines' post-independence dependence syndrome is not a failure of policy but a triumph of colonial design. Every manifestation from economic subservience to validation-seeking reinforces the core colonial mentality message: Filipinos cannot thrive without Western approval and partnership. This is the ultimate rip-off: a nation rich in resources, talent, and historical achievement reduced to perpetual apprenticeship, constantly paying tribute in the form of deference, resources, and self-abnegation.

The syndrome persists because it serves the interests of both foreign powers and the domestic elite. American corporations profit from extractive deals. American military forces gain strategic platforms. American culture industries capture Filipino markets. Meanwhile, Filipino elites who facilitate these arrangements enrich themselves while enjoying the psychological security of American validation. They become what Frantz Fanon called the "national bourgeoisie", a class that "merely substitutes itself for the former colonialists" without transforming colonial structures.

For the masses, the syndrome manifests as a collective Stockholm Syndrome, where the captor (America) is idealised and the promise of approval becomes the justification for continued subordination.

Cultural and Political Dependency

Colonial mentality also seeps into how the nation relates to power.

Our government often looks West for models, whether it’s American-style democracy, neoliberal economics, or imported frameworks for “development.” Even pop culture follows suit: Hollywood references dominate, and the Oscars matter more than the FAMAS awards.

Political scientist Benedict Anderson once noted that post-colonial nations risk becoming “imagined communities patterned after their colonisers.” The Philippines exemplifies this tension: free on paper, yet still performing Western modernity to prove its worth.

The dependency extends to foreign policy. We routinely seek Washington’s reassurance over security in the South China Sea, over trade access, and over human-rights legitimacy as if independence must be constantly re-certified.

Psychological Consequences

Colonial mentality doesn’t just shape culture; it affects mental health.

As mentioned above, studies among Filipino Americans show strong links between colonial mentality and depression, shame, and identity conflict. The internalised sense of inferiority corrodes self-concept, often producing what therapists call “internal cultural invalidation.”

A 2023 systematic review by the Portland State University School of Social Work found that colonial mentality among Filipino and Filipino Americans contributes to social withdrawal, anxiety, and reluctance to seek help, especially from Filipino therapists, whom some perceive as “less professional” than Western ones.

In short, colonisation didn’t just seize land. It quietly rewired self-perception, teaching generations to equate Western proximity with safety and success.

The Mandela Effect

In popular consciousness, the colonial past often blurs into myth. Many Filipinos fondly recall how the Americans “taught us democracy” or how the Spanish “brought civilisation,” forgetting that these same powers suppressed native governance, languages, and belief systems.

It's the collective misremembering of history that romanticises the coloniser while erasing precolonial sophistication. We forget that before 1521, ancient communities were already thriving maritime chiefdoms engaged in trade with China, the Malay world, and the rest of Asia.

You’ll still hear people say, “Without the Americans, we’d be nothing,” or “Spain gave us religion.” Both overlook the rich indigenous governance, craftsmanship, and spirituality that existed long before Western contact. This selective memory shields the colonial system from criticism and keeps dependency alive not by force, but by fond recollection.

The Unhealthy Nostalgia for ‘The Good Old Days’

There’s a persistent yearning for a time when the Philippines was “more disciplined,” “cleaner,” or “better under the Americans.” This unhealthy nostalgia glamorises the colonial or early postcolonial era while ignoring who benefited from it. These were the elites educated in Western schools or those close to colonial power. And guess what? Their descendants are still calling the shots for us.

Social media fuels this myth-making: vintage photos of Manila’s Escolta or old U.S. bases circulate with captions like “Look how advanced we were then.” Yet those snapshots often hide inequality, censorship, and dependence.

Comments like “Mas okay pa noon, may respeto sa mga Amerikano,” or viral posts idealising 1950s Manila as a “mini-America”, show how nostalgia can blind us to the exploitative roots of that prosperity. Some even yearn for the Philippines to become an American state.

Crab Mentality as Internalised Hierarchy

What’s often dismissed as a cultural flaw. Crab mentality, or the tendency to pull others down, is a byproduct of colonial conditioning. Centuries of social ranking under Spanish indios, mestizos, and ilustrados reinforced the idea that success is limited and proximity to power (or whiteness) means worth.

Instead of cooperation, we inherited a competitive survivalism that involves a hierarchy where another Filipino’s success feels like your own loss. This mindset thrives today in workplaces, politics, and even online discourse, where tearing others down passes as critique.

From influencers mocked for speaking Filipino-accented English to local brands accused of “trying too hard,” crab mentality sustains the belief that Filipino-made equals second-rate unless endorsed by the West.

Why Decolonisation Never Fully Took Root

While many post-colonial societies exhibit symptoms of cultural cringe or admiration for former colonisers, colonial mentality in the Philippines is distinguished by its intensity, pervasiveness, and institutionalisation.

Comparative analysis reveals that colonial mentality correlates with two factors: duration of colonisation and nature of independence struggle. The Philippines experienced 377 years of continuous colonial rule (1565-1946), longer than any major Southeast Asian nation except East Timor.

More significantly, its independence was granted by the coloniser rather than seized through revolutionary victory. As Fanon argued in The Wretched of the Earth, independence without revolutionary violence often fails to shatter the colonised psyche because it leaves intact the colonial class structure and ideological apparatus. The Filipino elite who negotiated independence were themselves products of American education and patronage, making them incapable of envisioning a truly decolonised nation.

This comparative perspective validates David's theoretical framework: colonial mentality is not a universal post-colonial condition but a specific psychopathology produced by particular historical configurations. Where other nations experienced a rupture with colonial authority, the Philippines experienced continuity, making its colonial mentality more deeply embedded and resistant to change.

New Nation, Old Framework

The Philippines is unique in that independence did not trigger a systematic decolonisation program. Instead, the neocolonial structures established by the United States ensured that colonial mentality would not just persist but thrive. The educational system continued to glorify American history while ignoring Filipino resistance. The economy remained dependent on American markets and investment. The political elite derived legitimacy from American connections.

Post-war legislation ensured that U.S. capital retained privileged access to Philippine markets. Local elites, many of them educated in American universities, saw little reason to disrupt this arrangement; their wealth depended on it.

As historian Renato Constantino wrote in "The Miseducation of the Filipino," the colonial classroom taught obedience rather than liberation. “We were trained,” he said, “to admire the foreigner and distrust our own capacity.”

By the time the postwar generation came of age, dependency had been normalised not as subjugation, but as the sensible way of keeping up with the modern world.

Psychological and Cultural Inertia

Even when structures can be reformed, mental habits take longer to unlearn. Colonisation didn’t just rewrite political maps; it reshaped self-worth. The Spaniards used religion to introduce guilt and hierarchy; the Americans used education to instil admiration and aspiration. Both forms worked: one by fear, the other by flattery.

This double conditioning left the Filipino psyche split: proud yet apologetic, confident yet deferential. As Fanon warned, “The colonised is taught not only to obey but to admire the one who commands.”

Filipino psychologists call this hiya (shame) mixed with utang na loob (debt of gratitude), which are emotions weaponised by colonial rulers and later recycled in politics and daily life. It’s why many Filipinos still struggle to challenge authority or Western expertise, even when their own insights are just as valid.

The Global Context

While much of Asia surged through nationalist revolutions, the Philippines entered the Cold War as America’s “showcase of democracy.” Instead of breaking free, it became the poster child of U.S. influence in Asia as proof that a former colony could thrive under Western guidance.

But this “special relationship” came with strings.

• The country hosted major American military bases until 1991.
• U.S. aid and investment propped up local elites and dictated development priorities.
• The education system continued exporting labour, like teachers, nurses, and engineers, creating the Overseas Filipino Worker (OFW) economy that now props up national GDP.

In effect, the Philippines rebranded colonial dependence as global integration. Our workers became modern-day galleons by carrying skill, sacrifice, and remittances abroad while the country learned to measure its strength not in self-sufficiency but in exportable labour.

The Failure of a Cultural Revolution

Unlike Indonesia’s post-Sukarno cultural movement or Vietnam’s socialist reorientation, the Philippines never underwent a sweeping cultural revolution. Postwar leaders prioritised reconstruction and alliance over redefinition. Even today, national identity debates circle around borrowed symbols from English slogans to Western-style pageantry instead of rediscovering precolonial or indigenous roots.

Attempts at decolonisation emerged sporadically, such as the nationalist education reforms of the 1970s, the reintroduction of Filipino as a medium of instruction, the revival of Baybayin scripts and local crafts, but they often stalled under political shifts or public indifference. Each generation seemed to start over, unsure of what a “Filipino” truly means beyond borrowed ideals.

The Comfort of Dependency

Dependency, after all, offers comfort. It absolves a nation of the risk that comes with self-reliance. As long as there’s an ally to fund, protect, or validate us, we can postpone the hard work of self-definition.

But comfort is not freedom. And until the Philippines confronts how politically, economically, and psychologically dependency is woven into its national identity, true decolonisation will remain unfinished business.

Lessons from Our Neighbours

History rarely moves in sync, even among neighbours. After the Second World War, most of Southeast Asia faced the same question: now that the colonisers are gone, who are we?

The answers varied, and the Philippines, for all its early independence, arguably struggled the most to craft its own.

Indonesia: Pain Before Pride

Indonesia’s independence in 1945 came with blood, not ceremony. Unlike the Philippines, which received sovereignty through legal transition, Indonesia fought a four-year revolution against the Dutch. That struggle forged unity where islands and languages might have divided.

National identity became something earned, not granted. The leaders Sukarno and Hatta understood that political freedom meant little without psychological liberation. Sukarno’s vision of Nasakom (nationalism, religion, communism) sought to balance ideology and inclusivity; his later “Guided Democracy” may have faltered, but it cemented bahasa Indonesia as a unifying language and anti-colonial consciousness as civic duty.

Culturally, Indonesia’s rejection of Dutch dominance ran deep: Dutch schools were replaced by Indonesian curricula, local art forms gained prestige, and national heroes replaced European saints in public iconography.

The result? Even amid political chaos, Indonesians grew fluent in thinking of themselves first as anak bangsa (children of the nation) before citizens of the world.

Vietnam: Self-Definition Through Resistance

Vietnam’s decolonisation was harsher still as it spanned French colonisation, Japanese occupation, and American intervention. Yet from that crucible emerged a collective identity forged by resistance. Ho Chi Minh’s declaration of independence in 1945 drew directly from the American Declaration of Independence and then turned it against imperial hypocrisy.

Through decades of war, Vietnamese nationalism fused socialism with self-sufficiency. The postwar state’s drive for agricultural collectivisation and national education aimed not just at recovery but at reasserting Vietnamese dignity. While rigid at times, this project rooted pride in endurance, not foreign validation.

By the 1990s, Đổi Mới (economic renovation) opened Vietnam to global trade without surrendering cultural control. English spread, but not at the cost of the Vietnamese language or heritage. That’s a balance the Philippines still wrestles with.

Malaysia: The Politics of Cultural Ownership

Malaysia’s decolonisation in 1957 was less violent but no less intentional. British administrators left behind a multiracial society divided by class and ethnicity. The new government responded by making culture itself a political project by promoting Bahasa Melayu as the national language and Islam as the symbolic spine of unity.

This identity-building had its costs (notably ethnic tension), but it succeeded in reclaiming cultural ownership from the British. Malaysia’s “Look East Policy” under Mahathir Mohamad in the 1980s further reoriented aspiration from the West toward Japan and South Korea as a strategic pivot that redefined modernity in Asian, not colonial, terms.

Thailand: The Uncolonised Comparator

Thailand offers a fascinating contrast because it was never formally colonised. Yet it adopted Western modernisation to survive regional imperialism. Its monarchy, bureaucracy, and military absorbed Western methods selectively, maintaining sovereignty without surrendering identity.

The lesson for the Philippines is not isolationism but discernment by knowing what to borrow and what to guard. Thailand’s balancing act between Western influence and local tradition shows that modernity need not mean mimicry.

Rejection of Neocolonialism

The Philippines' divergence becomes even clearer when viewed within the broader context of Third World decolonisation. The 1955 Bandung Conference, which launched the Non-Aligned Movement, embodied a collective psychological revolution: newly independent nations refusing to accept subordination in a bipolar world.

The Bandung Spirit

At Bandung, Indonesia, representatives from 29 Asian and African nations articulated a vision of "Afro-Asian solidarity" based on mutual respect and rejection of great-power domination. They called for economic cooperation among former colonies, cultural exchange that didn't flow through Western capitals, and political support for liberation movements still struggling against colonialism. This "Bandung Spirit" represented collective psychological liberation: the recognition that former colonies could validate each other without Western approval.

The Philippines attended Bandung but remained ambivalent. While fellow participants like India's Nehru, Indonesia's Sukarno, Egypt's Nasser, and Ghana's Nkrumah championed Third World solidarity, the Philippines under President Ramon Magsaysay was already positioning itself as America's "showcase of democracy" in Asia. Filipino delegates were instructed not to align with "anti-Western" elements, a stance that isolated them from the Third World's most dynamic decolonisation project.

Third World Institution Building

The 1960s and 1970s saw former colonies building alternative institutions:

• The United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD), established in 1964, challenged Western-dominated trade rules that disadvantaged commodity exporters (a category that included the Philippines)
• The Group of 77 (now 134 developing nations) coordinated positions on international economic policy
• The New International Economic Order (NIEO) proposal in 1974 demanded restructuring of global finance to favour development

These initiatives were decolonisation in practice, which is a collective refusal to accept neocolonial economic structures. The Philippines nominally participated but never championed these causes, prioritising its "special relationship" with the U.S. over Third World solidarity. While Indonesian and Malaysian diplomats attacked unequal trade agreements, Filipino negotiators focused on preserving American preferential access to Philippine markets.

Post-Colonial Intellectual Renaissance

Third World decolonisation included an intellectual dimension. Figures like Frantz Fanon (Martinique/Algeria), Amílcar Cabral (Guinea-Bissau), and Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o (Kenya) developed theories of colonialism, violence, and cultural liberation that resonated across former colonies. Their work provided ideological tools for dismantling colonial mentality.

The Philippines produced parallel thinkers, like José Rizal, Apolinario Mabini, and Renato Constantino, but their critiques were marginalised in official discourse. While African and Latin American universities taught Fanon's The Wretched of the Earth as required reading, Philippine universities continued to emphasise American political science and European philosophy. The result was a Philippine intelligentsia that could critique colonialism theoretically but lacked the institutional support to implement decolonisation practically.

What the Philippines Can Learn

Across these examples runs a clear thread: decolonisation is not an event but an ethic.

Indonesia and Vietnam bled for it, Malaysia legislated it, and Thailand negotiated it. The Philippines, by contrast, outsourced it, expecting time or a foreign partnership to finish the work.

Three takeaways stand out:

Nationalism must be lived, not legislated.

Indonesia and Vietnam built national pride through struggle. The Philippines, having gained independence by diplomacy, never underwent that shared trial of definition.

Language is liberation.

Where others elevated their native tongues, the Philippines kept English as its intellectual default. It became a bridge to opportunity but also a barrier to self-expression.

Modernisation without self-belief is mimicry.

Malaysia and Thailand modernised by translating progress into their own cultural idioms. The Philippines still tends to copy Western templates, from governance to pop culture, without rooting them in local values.

Until the Philippines defines modernity on its own terms, not America’s nor Spain’s, decolonisation will remain half-done.

The Cost of Colonial Mentality Today

Colonial mentality is not an abstract ghost of the past. It’s a living influence that shapes everyday decisions, ambitions, and anxieties. It determines what we value, whom we trust, and how we define success. In many ways, it’s the invisible tax on Filipino self-worth.

The Illusion of Growth

The Philippines’ economy has grown steadily over the past decades, but its foundation remains outward-looking.

According to Bangko Sentral data, OFW remittances contribute nearly 10% of GDP, which is a lifeline that sustains consumption but drains communities. Each nurse or engineer leaving for work abroad is both a symbol of Filipino resilience and proof of the system’s failure to keep talent at home.

Foreign investment is often welcomed as salvation, yet ownership laws and incentives continue to favour multinationals. From mining concessions to call centres, the country profits less from its own resources than from servicing Western economies.

As sociologist Randolf David once wrote, “We export competence but import confidence.”

The result is a cycle of dependency: when the peso weakens, the government looks to Washington; when industries collapse, it waits for aid. Economic sovereignty remains conditional.

Cultural Imitation and Media Influence

Turn on the television or scroll through social media, and the colonial mindset hums in the background.

Beauty standards still favour lighter skin, aquiline noses, and Western aesthetics. Cosmetic companies sell “whitening” as empowerment, while Filipino features are subtly coded as flaws to fix.

In music, television, and film, Western genres dominate. Our talent shows judge “how American” a singer sounds; our films chase foreign approval at festivals before winning local hearts. The creative industries often mirror global trends instead of defining regional ones.

This mimicry isn’t mere flattery; it’s cultural insecurity that was inherited from centuries of being told that refinement comes from elsewhere. The tragedy is that the Philippines, with its syncretic creativity and linguistic diversity, could have been a cultural superpower in Asia. Instead, it often plays the role of the eager apprentice.

Education and the English Fetish

English remains the default medium of prestige, the language of power, employment, and intellect.

While bilingualism can be an asset, in the Philippines, it often enforces hierarchy. Those fluent in English are seen as educated, “world-class,” or more competent - a bias that penalises millions who think and dream in Filipino or Bisaya or Waray.

A 2018 Ateneo de Manila University study found that even in urban schools, students associate English with “success” and Filipino with “emotion or domestic life.” That linguistic divide subtly reinforces colonial hierarchies where reason belongs to the West and feeling belongs to the native.

Patronage and the Paternal State

In politics, the colonial legacy lives on through a paternalistic model of leadership. Power concentrates in families, mirroring the cacique (landlord) system of the Spanish era. The electorate, long conditioned to seek protection rather than partnership, often mistakes charisma for competence - a symptom of colonial dependency dressed as trust.

Foreign alignment further complicates sovereignty. U.S. military access through the EDCA and joint drills under the VFA are justified as “security cooperation,” yet they perpetuate the notion that the Philippines cannot defend itself without Western muscle.

It’s the same dynamic of reliance, merely repackaged for modern diplomacy.

The Self That Doubts Itself

Colonial mentality manifests as shame toward one’s culture, guilt for speaking one’s language, and admiration for foreign validation. In clinical terms, it leads to low self-esteem, imposter syndrome, and a fractured sense of belonging, especially among diaspora Filipinos who navigate identity across borders.

At home, it shows in subtler ways: the parent who boasts that their child “sounds American”; the student who hesitates to write in Filipino because it feels “less academic”; the policymaker who waits for Western approval before implementing local reform.

Colonial mentality persists because it offers comfort, an illusion that Western endorsement guarantees progress. But comfort is not the same as growth.

Pride on Borrowed Terms

The saddest price of colonial mentality is emotional. Many Filipinos feel proud of their heritage only when others validate it. That pride is genuine, but it’s still reactive, not self-sustaining. We celebrate recognition rather than self-definition.

Until pride is rooted in internal conviction rather than external applause, the Filipino identity will remain fragile, confident in bursts, uncertain at its core.

Toward Healing and Reclamation

Breaking this pattern requires more than nationalism as rhetoric. It demands education reform that dignifies local languages, media that reflect real diversity, and economic policies that prioritise local innovation over foreign dependence.

It also calls for a collective psychological shift by recognising that Filipino excellence is not a derivative of Western standards but an expression of its own. Healing begins when we stop asking for permission to value ourselves.

Unshackling the Mentality

Decolonisation must begin with cultural revaluation, not mere preservation of traditions as museum pieces, but active restoration of indigenous knowledge systems as legitimate sources of authority, beauty, and innovation. This requires dismantling the colonial hierarchy that positions Western culture as universal and Filipino culture as particular, reversing it so that Filipino ways of knowing become the foundation upon which external influences are selectively integrated.

Language Sovereignty Initiatives

The most urgent decolonisation project is linguistic reclamation. Language is not merely a communication tool; it is the architecture of consciousness.

When Filipinos think, dream, and create primarily in English, they reproduce colonial thought patterns. The "Mother Tongue-Based Multilingual Education" (MTB-MLE) policy, implemented in 2013, offers a foundation but remains limited by colonial mentality. It designates regional languages as "mother tongues" for early education but treats English and Filipino as the languages of "real" learning, to be introduced in later grades. This perpetuates the hierarchy: local languages are for children, English for serious adults.

Genuine linguistic decolonisation would invert this. Universities should offer degree programs conducted entirely in local languages such as Waray, Bisaya, or Ilokano, producing engineers, doctors, and lawyers who think and innovate in their native languages.

Iceland, with only 370,000 speakers, conducts all higher education in Icelandic; the Philippines, with 30 million Tagalog speakers and millions more using other languages, can certainly do the same. The resistance to this idea—"English is the global language, we'd be isolating ourselves"—is colonial mentality speaking, accepting that Filipino languages are inherently less capable.

Successful models exist. India's regional language universities produce world-class graduates who operate confidently in both local and global contexts. Israel revived Hebrew from a liturgical to a living language capable of quantum physics and computer science. The key is state commitment: governments must fund research in Filipino languages, publish textbooks, and certify professional competence without requiring English. When Filipino parents see that children educated in Bisaya can become successful scientists, the prestige hierarchy will shift.

Indigenous Knowledge System Revival

Beyond language, decolonisation requires institutionalising indigenous knowledge. This means creating Indigenous Universities—accredited institutions governed by tribal elders that grant degrees in traditional medicine, ecological management, and customary law. Imagine a university in the Cordilleras where students earn Bachelor's degrees in Muyong Agroforestry Management, learning to map watersheds using indigenous taxonomy and to resolve land disputes through bodong (peace pact) mechanisms. Such degrees would be recognised nationally, allowing graduates to work in the Department of Environment and Natural Resources or the judiciary, bringing indigenous frameworks into state governance.

This is not romantic primitivism. The muyong system has sustained the Banaue terraces for a millennium, demonstrating resilience that modern "sustainable agriculture" is only now rediscovering. Filipino traditional medicine treats dengue and respiratory infections using protocols that Western biomedicine is beginning to validate. The tara system of Islamic credit unions in Mindanao avoided interest-based finance centuries before Western economists identified its systemic risks. These knowledge systems worked; they were simply delegitimised.

Decolonisation means reversing epistemic injustice. The Department of Science and Technology should fund research proposals written in indigenous languages, reviewed by committees that include tribal elders alongside academic scientists. Medical licensing boards should recognise arbularyo certification from indigenous healers' associations. Supreme Court decisions should cite customary law alongside Spanish-derived civil law. When indigenous knowledge shapes policy, colonial mentality begins to crack.

Cultural Production as Counter-Narrative

Media and arts must actively counter colonial narratives. The current trend of historical films (Heneral Luna, Goyo) is positive but insufficient, as these still focus on colonial encounters rather than pre-colonial sovereignty. What is needed is a "Philippine Golden Age" cinematic universe: epic films about the kingdom of Butuan's diplomatic missions to China, the maritime wars of the Visayan kadatuan, or the trading networks of pre-colonial Tondo. When Filipino children grow up watching their civilisations portrayed as sophisticated and powerful, the colonial myth of pre-colonial backwardness collapses.

Television networks must be required by law to produce programming in regional languages during primetime, not relegated to off-hours. Streaming platforms like iWantTFC should commission series in Kapampangan or Chavacano with English subtitles, reversing the colonial pattern. When Squid Game in Korean becomes a global hit, it proves that audiences will engage with subtitled content. The Philippines has not produced a mainstream series in a regional language because colonial mentality assumes Filipino languages cannot carry "serious" drama.

The art world must similarly decolonise. The Cultural Center of the Philippines should require that 50% of its exhibitions feature indigenous art forms not as anthropological artifacts, but as contemporary works engaging with global themes through Filipino aesthetics. When Filipino artists win international awards using indigenous materials and concepts (like Kidlat Tahimik's Balikbayan series), it should be celebrated as Filipino genius, not as validation that "we can do Western-style art too."

Economic Sovereignty Initiatives

Cultural reclamation must be paired with economic restructuring that prioritises domestic needs over foreign profit, indigenous capacity over imported expertise, and regional integration over neocolonial dependency.

The most urgent economic decolonisation is food sovereignty. The Philippines, an agricultural nation, imports rice and fish—a condition colonial mentality frames as "inefficiency" but is actually engineered dependency. The post-independence commitment to export cash crops (sugar, coconut, banana) for foreign exchange required importing staples at prices set by global markets. When domestic production faltered due to climate or disaster, the IMF forced import liberalisation, destroying local farmers.

Decolonisation means treating food security as national security. The Rice Tariffication Law of 2019, which liberalised rice imports, must be repealed. Instead, the government should implement agrarian reform 2.0: not just land redistribution, but integrated support for food crop production. This includes state purchases of palay at prices that ensure farmer profitability, massive investment in irrigation and post-harvest facilities, and seed banks that preserve heirloom varieties rather than promoting foreign hybrids.

Vietnam's success is instructive. After decades of war, Vietnam achieved rice self-sufficiency by 1985 through state-led investment in rural infrastructure and farmer cooperatives. It now exports rice because domestic needs are met. The Philippines could do the same, but colonial mentality idealises American-style agribusiness (large, mechanised, corporate) and dismisses smallholder farming as "backward." Decolonisation requires recognising that the Philippines' 5 million small farms are not a problem to be eliminated but the foundation of a resilient food system.

Industrial Policy with Filipino Characteristics

Economic sovereignty requires active industrial policy, not the failed import substitution of the 1960s, but strategic nurturing of industries that serve domestic needs and build indigenous technological capacity. The Philippine Development Plan should identify sectors where the country has a comparative advantage that can be developed with Filipino control, not simply where foreign investors want to locate.

Key targets should include:

• Maritime technology: Leveraging archipelagic geography to become a world leader in shipbuilding, port management, and marine conservation technology. The Philippines already builds vessels for European firms, but has no internationally recognised Filipino shipbuilding brand because colonial mentality assumes Filipinos can only be subcontractors.
• Coconut-based industry: Moving beyond raw oil export to high-value products, such as biodiesel, activated carbon for water purification, coconut fibre composites for construction, and coconut sugar for specialty markets. The technology exists in Filipino universities but lacks capital because investors prefer proven foreign models.
• Digital services: The business process outsourcing (BPO) sector generates $30 billion annually but remains a subcontractor for American corporations. Decolonisation means Filipino-owned platforms that compete globally—developing Filipino software, Filipino cloud infrastructure, Filipino AI trained on Filipino languages and contexts.

State Capitalism as Decolonising Tool

This industrial policy requires what Korean economist Ha-Joon Chang calls "state entrepreneurship"—the government taking equity stakes in strategic industries, directing credit through development banks, and protecting infant industries until they achieve global competitiveness. The Philippines' Development Bank of the Philippines (DBP) should function like South Korea's Korea Development Bank, which funded Samsung and Hyundai's rise by accepting long-term risk that private capital would not.

Crucially, foreign investment must be conditional on technology transfer and joint ownership. Indonesian law requires foreign mining firms to sell 51% equity to Indonesian partners within ten years of operation. This forces knowledge transfer and ensures domestic control. The Philippines' Foreign Investment Act should be amended similarly: foreign firms can operate, but must transition to minority ownership within fifteen years, with Filipino partners gaining control of management and technology.

The psychological barrier is enormous. Filipino elites conditioned by colonial mentality argue that such policies will "scare away foreign investors," accepting the neoliberal myth that capital is mobile and must be appeased. But China, India, and Indonesia all imposed such conditions and still attracted investment because investors need access to resources and markets more than countries need investors. The Philippines' unwillingness to impose these terms reveals not economic realism but learned helplessness, the belief that Filipinos have no negotiating power.

Regional Economic Integration

Finally, decolonisation requires pivoting from American markets to Asian integration. The Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership (RCEP) offers a framework for trade among ASEAN nations plus China, Japan, and South Korea that is less exploitative than American bilateral deals. But the Philippines has been slow to utilise RCEP, still prioritising U.S. market access because colonial mentality assumes American consumers are more valuable than Asian ones.

A decolonising strategy would involve:

• Negotiating technology swaps with South Korea that would involve Philippine agricultural products for Korean shipbuilding expertise
• Building joint ventures with Vietnamese firms to develop South China Sea resources cooperatively, reducing dependence on American security guarantees
• Creating ASEAN payment systems that bypass the U.S. dollar, using local currencies for regional trade, as advocated by China and Russia

The colonial mentality obstacle is the belief that Asian partnerships are "second-best" compared to American ties. Breaking this requires recognising that Asia is now the world's economic center, and Filipino prosperity depends on regional integration, not neocolonial nostalgia.

Psychological Decolonisation

The deepest decolonisation is psychological, addressing the internalised wounds that colonial mentality creates. This requires therapeutic intervention, educational reform, and consciousness-raising that treat colonial mentality as a public health crisis, not a cultural quirk.

Dr. David's research provides a clinical framework. Mental health professionals must be trained to recognise colonial mentality as a diagnostic category akin to complex post-traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD). Therapy should address:

• Internalised racism: Using cognitive-behavioural techniques to challenge automatic thoughts that equate "Filipino" with "inferior"
• Intergenerational transmission: Working with families to identify how colonial mentality is passed from parents to children through skin-colour preferences, language shaming, and approval-seeking
• Identity reconstruction: Helping clients build a "bicultural" identity that values Filipino heritage while selectively engaging with Western influences, rather than performing a colonised self

Community-based healing circles, modelled on Filipino indigenous practices (balay-la, dap-ay), should be integrated into barangay health centres. These circles allow people to share experiences of discrimination and internalised shame in culturally resonant formats, reducing the stigma of seeking mental health care while building collective resilience.

Decolonising Education

The educational system must be fundamentally restructured. The current curriculum treats Philippine history as a subset of American history, starting with Magellan. A decolonised curriculum would begin with pre-colonial civilisations, treating Spanish and American periods as interruptions rather than foundations. Key reforms include:

• Mandatory pre-colonial history: One full school year in elementary and high school dedicated to Tondo, Butuan, Sugbo, the sultanates of Mindanao, and the indigenous governance systems of the Cordilleras
• Sikolohiyang Pilipino integration: Virgilio Enriquez's indigenous psychology framework should be taught in all teacher education programs, equipping educators to recognise and counter colonial mentality in students
• Language immersion schools: Establishing public magnet schools where all subjects are taught in regional languages, creating elite institutions that prove Filipino languages can carry academic excellence

University general education requirements should include courses on decolonial theory. Students should graduate understanding colonialism not as a historical event but as an ongoing structure that shapes their consciousness.

Media and Representation

Media regulation must enforce decolonial content quotas: television networks must allocate 30% of primetime programming to shows in regional languages; streaming platforms must feature Filipino-language content prominently, not as a niche category. News programs should have segments where experts discuss policy in Filipino, demonstrating that complex analysis doesn't require English.

Advertising must be regulated to prohibit colourist messaging. Skin-whitening product advertisements should carry warning labels: "This product promotes colonial standards of beauty that devalue natural Filipino features." While this seems radical, it mirrors regulations against tobacco advertising, recognising that colonial mentality is a public health hazard.

Consciousness-Raising Campaigns

The government should launch a national "Kalayaan ng Isipan" (Freedom of Mind) campaign, modelled on anti-smoking or HIV awareness initiatives. Public service announcements would feature celebrities discussing their own struggles with colonial mentality, skin-whitening addiction, English-language shame, and approval-seeking. Billboards would display pre-colonial artifacts with taglines like "Our ancestors built international trade networks without Western permission."

Grassroots organisations should organise "decolonisation workshops" in barangays, using theatre, storytelling, and community mapping to help residents identify colonial mentality in daily life. These workshops would culminate in community declarations of cultural sovereignty, pledges to teach children regional languages, support local producers, and challenge discrimination.

Learning from Successful Models

The Philippine decolonisation movement can draw inspiration from Latin American "decolonial turn" initiatives. Bolivia's 2010 "Law of Plurinational State" constitutionally recognises indigenous knowledge systems and mandates their integration into state policy. Mexico's National Institute of Indigenous

Languages promotes 68 indigenous languages as official national languages with equal status to Spanish. The Philippines could adopt similar legislation, making Ilokano, Bisaya, Kapampangan, and other languages co-official with Filipino and English, requiring all government documents to be available in multiple languages.

From Africa, the Philippines can learn from Kenya's "Harambee" philosophy of community self-help, which built schools and health centres without waiting for foreign aid, fostering psychological self-reliance. From India, the Navdanya movement protects indigenous seeds and agricultural knowledge from corporate appropriation, demonstrating how cultural and economic decolonisation reinforce each other.

The Long Work Ahead

The enduring legacy of colonial mentality is not destiny: it’s a challenge.

It asks: can we imagine ourselves whole, without borrowed mirrors? Can we build progress that doesn’t come at the cost of pride?

The answers will not come from presidents or policies alone but from classrooms, conversations, and the quiet courage to unlearn. Independence may have been declared a few decades ago, but decolonisation is declared anew each day we choose to think and believe as Filipinos.

Comprehensive Source Materials

Primary Academic Sources (Filipino Psychology & Colonial Mentality)

David, E. J. R., & Okazaki, S. (2006). Colonial mentality: A review and recommendation for Filipino American psychology. Cultural Diversity and Ethnic Minority Psychology, 12(1), 24-42. 

Foundational study defining colonial mentality as a measurable construct comprising cultural worthlessness, somatic shame, and intergenerational transmission of self-hatred.

David, E. J. R. (2008). A colonial mentality model of depression for Filipino Americans. Cultural Diversity and Ethnic Minority Psychology, 14(1), 34-45. 

Establishes an empirical link between internalised colonial oppression and depressive symptoms among Filipino populations.

David, E. J. R. (2013). Brown Skin, White Minds: Filipino American Postcolonial Psychology. Information Age Publishing.

Comprehensive monograph examining colonial mentality's historical roots, psychological mechanisms, and clinical interventions.

Nadal, K. L. (2011). Filipino American Psychology: A Handbook of Theory, Research, and Clinical Practice. John Wiley & Sons.

Situates colonial mentality within the broader framework of Filipino American mental health and identity formation.

Historical Sources (Pre-colonial & Colonial Philippines)

Scott, W. H. (1989). Prehispanic Source Materials for the Study of Philippine History (Revised Edition). New Day Publishers. 

Seminal compilation of Chinese tributary records, Spanish chronicles, and archaeological evidence proving the sophistication of pre-colonial polities.

Corpuz, O. D. (1989). The Roots of the Filipino Nation (Vols. 1-2). AKLAHI Foundation.

Detailed political history documenting the barangay system, royal genealogies, and indigenous governance structures.

Junker, L. L. (1999). Raiding, Trading, and Feasting: The Political Economy of Philippine Chiefdoms. University of Hawai'i Press.

Archaeological analysis of Tondo, Butuan, and other chiefdoms demonstrates complex trade networks and social stratification.

Bacus, E. A. (2004). "The Archaeology of the Philippine Archipelago". In Southeast Asian Archaeology, 41-65. 

Summarises recent excavations in Butuan and Cebu, revealing advanced metallurgy and maritime technology.

Pigafetta, A. (1524). The First Voyage Round the World. (English translation: Lord Stanley of Alderley, 1874).

Primary source eyewitness account of the Sugbo (Cebu) chiefdom's political organisation and trade relations.

Decolonisation Studies & Post-colonial Theory

Fanon, F. (1963). The Wretched of the Earth. Grove Press.

Theoretical foundation for understanding how independence without revolutionary consciousness perpetuates neocolonialism.

Memmi, A. (1965). The Colonizer and the Colonized. Beacon Press.

Classic analysis of psychological dynamics of colonial oppression and internalised inferiority.

Nandy, A. (1983). The Intimate Enemy: Loss and Recovery of Self Under Colonialism. Oxford University Press.

Examines how colonialism colonises minds, making the oppressed complicit in their own oppression.

Spivak, G. C. (1988). "Can the Subaltern Speak?". In Marxism and the Interpretation of Culture, 271-313.

Introduces the concept of "epistemic violence" and delegitimisation of indigenous knowledge systems.

Bhabha, H. K. (1994). The Location of Culture. Routledge.

Theorises colonial mimicry and hybrid identities in post-colonial contexts.

Shiva, V., & Nandy, A. (Eds.). (2005). Breaking the Boundaries: Essays in Post-Colonial Studies. Zed Books.

Collection addressing cultural erasure and appropriation in post-colonial economies.

Getachew, A. (2019). Worldmaking After Empire: The Rise and Fall of Self-Determination. Princeton University Press.

Analyses how Third World nations built alternative international orders, providing a comparative context for Philippines' failure to do so.

Lateral Journal. (2015). "Decolonization and the Third World". Lateral: Journal of the Cultural Studies Association, 4(1). 

Survey of Third World solidarity movements and anti-colonial institution building.

History.state.gov. Decolonization of Asia and Africa, 1945–1960. Office of the Historian, U.S. Department of State. 

Official U.S. perspective on post-war decolonisation processes.

Philippine-U.S. Relations & Neocolonialism

Immerwahr, D. (2013). Philippine Independence in U.S. History: A Car, Not a Train. Journal of Asian American Studies, 16(1), 1-28. 

Demonstrates how Philippine independence was structured to maintain American control through "the substance of annexation without actual annexation."

Stanley, P. W. (1974). A Nation in the Making: The Philippines and the United States, 1899-1921. Harvard University Press.

Detailed analysis of American colonial policy and the construction of neocolonial dependency.

Constantino, R. (1978). Neocolonial Identity and Counter-Consciousness: Essays on Cultural Decolonization. M.E. Sharpe.

Filipino scholar's critique of continuing mental colonisation after formal independence.

Cullather, N. (1994). Illusions of Influence: The Political Economy of United States-Philippines Relations, 1942-1960. Stanford University Press.

Documents how economic treaties created structural dependency.

Bello, W., Docena, H., de Guzman, M., & Malig, M. (2004). The Anti-Development State: The Political Economy of Permanent Crisis in the Philippines. Zed Books.

Analysis of how colonial-era economic structures persist in contemporary Philippines, creating "permanent crisis."

Heydarian, R. J. (2020). The Indo-Pacific: Trump, China, and the New Global Struggle for Power. Palgrave Macmillan.

Contemporary analysis of Philippines' strategic subordination within U.S.-China competition.

Economic Studies (Dependency & Exploitation)

Boyce, J. K. (1993). The Political Economy of Growth and Improverishment in the Marcos Era. University of the Philippines Press.

Documents the extraction of mineral wealth by American corporations under Parity Rights.

Lim, J. A. (2016). The Political Economy of the Philippine Mining Industry. In Bamboo and Fire: Essays on Philippine Studies, 145-178.

Quantifies profits repatriated versus environmental costs borne by the Philippines.

Philippine Senate Fiscal Policy Office. (2016). Cost-Benefit Analysis of the Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement. Senate of the Philippines. 

Official government assessment revealing net Philippine subsidy of U.S. military presence.

World Bank. (2022). Philippines Economic Update: Managing Domestic and External Shocks.

Data on remittances, labour export, and economic dependency indicators.

Asian Development Bank. (2021). The Future of Made in Asia: Global Value Chains and Industrial Policy.

Comparative analysis of why the Philippine industrial policy failed while neighbours succeeded.

Son, H. H. (2010). A Multi-Country Analysis of Achievements and Inequalities in Economic Growth and Human Development. UNDP Human Development Research Paper.

Statistical analysis of decolonisation outcomes comparing the Philippines, Indonesia, and Vietnam.

Cultural Studies & Media

Mendoza, S. L. (2002). Between the Homeland and the Diaspora: The Politics of Theorizing Filipino and Filipino American Identities. Routledge.

Examines how colonial mentality shapes diaspora identity formation.

Tadiar, N. X. (2004). Fantasy-Production: Sexual Economies and Other Philippine Consequences for the New World Order. Ateneo de Manila University Press.

Analysis of how Philippine cultural industries reproduce colonial fantasies.

Tolentino, R. (2000). National/Transnational: Subject Formation and Media in and on the Philippines. Ateneo de Manila University Press.

Critiques media representation and validation-seeking behaviour in Philippine pop culture.

Lizada, L. P. (2019). "The Powerful Rajahs and Sultans of Pre-Colonial Philippines". Esquire Philippines. 

Popular historical account synthesizing academic research on pre-colonial polities.

UNCTAD Creative Economy Programme. (2022). Creative Economy Outlook: Trends in International Trade of Creative Goods and Services.

Data on cultural appropriation and value extraction from developing nations' cultural products.

Comparative International Examples

India

Khilnani, S. (1997). The Idea of India. Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

- Analysis of Nehru's cultural decolonisation and Non-Aligned Movement.

Nandy, A. (2009). The Romance of the State and the Fate of Dissent in the Tropics. Oxford University Press.

Examines India's post-colonial identity formation versus the Philippines' neocolonial persistence.

Indonesia

Elson, R. E. (2008). The Idea of Indonesia: A History. Cambridge University Press.

- Documents Sukarno's revolutionary decolonisation and Pancasila ideology.

Unicus Olympiads. "The Impact of Decolonisation on National Identities". 

Comparative study of Indonesia's post-colonial state-building.

Vietnam

Duiker, W. J. (1995). Vietnam: Revolution in Transition. Westview Press.

- Analysis of how the anti-colonial war forged psychological independence.

Malaysia

Jomo, K. S., & Wee, C. H. (2002). Malaysia's Socio-Economic Transformation: Ideas, Practices & Challenges. Palgrave.

- Covers Malaysia's affirmative action and Islamic finance decolonisation.

Latin American Decolonial Turn

Mignolo, W. D. (2011). The Darker Side of Western Modernity: Global Futures, Decolonial Options. Duke University Press.

- Theoretical framework for contemporary decolonisation movements.

Walsh, C. (2018). The Decolonial For: Resurgences, Shifts, and Movements. In On Decoloniality: Concepts, Analytics, Praxis (pp. 15-32). Duke University Press.

Practical models from Bolivia's indigenous university initiatives.

Government & Official Philippine Sources

Philippine Statistics Authority. (2022). Overseas Filipino Workers Statistics.

Data on labour export and remittance flows.

Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas. (2023). Annual Report: Remittances and Macroeconomic Stability.

Official statistics on OFW remittances' share of GDP.

Department of Health. (2019). National Demographic and Health Survey: Skin-Whitening Product Use.

Quantifies the prevalence of skin-whitening practices among Filipino women.

Department of Environment and Natural Resources. (2021). Environmental Remediation Cost Assessment: Legacy Mining Sites.

Estimates the cleanup costs for American-owned mining operations.

Medical & Public Health Research

WHO Global Health Observatory. (2021). Health Workforce Statistics: Nurse-to-Population Ratios.

Comparative data on healthcare worker density.

Manila Bulletin. (2023). "Philippines Still Losing Nurses to Richer Nations". Manila Bulletin News.

Journalistic investigation of brain drain dynamics.

Legal & Constitutional Documents

1935 Constitution of the Republic of the Philippines (with 1946 amendments).

Bell Trade Act of 1946 (U.S. Public Law 79-371).

Laurel-Langley Agreement of 1955.

1987 Constitution of the Republic of the Philippines.

Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement (EDCA) of 2014.