Filial Support in Context: Why the Philippines's “Parents Welfare Act” Misses the Nuance?

Filial Support in Context: Why the Philippines's  “Parents Welfare Act” 

Misses the Nuance?

Senator Panfilo Lacson’s Parents Welfare Act of 2025 seeks to criminalize the failure of adult children to support their elderly, sick, or incapacitated parents. The senator justifies the bill by citing examples from both East and West—such as Singapore’s Maintenance of Parents Act and filial responsibility statutes in 30 U.S. states—as evidence that such policies are neither unusual nor culturally inappropriate.

However, such comparisons, when taken out of context, can be dangerously misleading. They ignore the distinct economic, legal, and cultural ecosystems in which these policies operate—and, more importantly, how those systems either cushion or exacerbate the burdens placed on individuals. In short, filial responsibility cannot be meaningfully legislated in isolation from state support structures.

Singapore: Mutual Obligation, Built on State Guarantees

Singapore is often held up as a model of successful integration of filial obligation into law, particularly through its Maintenance of Parents Act, which allows elderly parents to legally claim support from their children. But what is often overlooked is the broader socioeconomic architecture that makes such a policy viable—and even reasonable—within the Singaporean context.

Key differences include:

• Comprehensive Provident Fund System (CPF): The CPF is a compulsory savings scheme that both employers and employees contribute to. It provides for retirement, healthcare, and housing—core aspects of financial security. Most elderly Singaporeans have at least partial self-sufficiency, and family support becomes supplementary rather than primary. (CPF Board, 2024) 
• High Quality of Life and Social Mobility: Singapore ranks among the top globally for healthcare access, housing quality, and educational attainment. It is a high-income economy with universal public services. Intergenerational support is framed not just as duty, but as reciprocal care between empowered individuals. 
• Legal Safeguards for Children: Amendments to the Maintenance of Parents Act in 2023 added restrictions on abusive parents: those who had abandoned, abused, or severely neglected their children must now seek permission from a tribunal before making claims. This adds a layer of ethical accountability, protecting those with legitimate grievances. 

Thus, in Singapore, filial support is contextualized within a system of rights, responsibilities, and state guarantees. It is not a tool to shame the poor or punish those who have been harmed.

The Philippines: From Family Value to Penal Duty

In contrast, Lacson’s bill appears to convert what was once a cultural value—the moral imperative to care for one’s parents—into a penal duty, enforceable under threat of criminal sanction. This transformation is highly problematic, especially in a country where state guarantees for the elderly are weak or virtually nonexistent.

According to the Philippine Institute for Development Studies (PIDS), as of 2022:

• Only 38% of elderly Filipinos receive a pension. 
• The DSWD social pension program provides only ₱500 per month.
• Healthcare costs remain largely out-of-pocket, with public hospitals plagued by underfunding.

Filial support in the Philippines is often not reciprocal. It is one-directional—a function of economic necessity, not of mutual empowerment. The law, if passed, would function more as a punitive enforcement mechanism than a reflection of cultural harmony. It risks criminalizing the poor while ignoring the failures of the state to build resilient support systems for its aging population.

The U.S. Comparison: A Red Herring?

Lacson also points to the United States, where 30 states have filial responsibility laws. But the U.S. context offers even more reason to question this justification.

1. Legal Dormancy: While these laws exist on paper, very few are actively enforced. According to the National Center for State Courts (NCSC), only a handful of civil cases invoking these laws have occurred in the past decade—and virtually none result in criminal prosecution. Most are used by nursing homes to recoup unpaid care costs, not to reconcile estranged families.
2. Cultural Context: The U.S. is an individualist society built on the assumption of independence from both state and family. Government programs such as Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid exist to ensure that even those without family can live with dignity in old age. 
3. Family Autonomy: In the U.S., the idea of coercing adult children into caring for abusive or neglectful parents would likely trigger constitutional challenges on the grounds of personal liberty. Cultural norms uphold autonomy over obligation, unlike the communitarian frameworks Lacson refers to.

To borrow American law to justify a communitarian framework—as Lacson does—reveals a confused legal analogy. It attempts to apply the letter of U.S. law, without the spirit or structure that surrounds it.

Filial Duty Cannot Replace a Broken Welfare State

Ultimately, Lacson’s bill raises a fundamental question: who is truly responsible for elder care in a democratic society? If the answer is solely “the family,” then the state absolves itself of obligation. But this is neither sustainable nor just—especially in a country like the Philippines, where poverty, trauma, and intergenerational inequality remain deeply entrenched.

Moreover, legislation that presumes a moral harmony within families risks re-traumatizing individuals with histories of neglect or abuse. Not all parents are nurturing. Not all relationships can be reconciled. And not all children have the means to provide care, even if they desperately want to.

The road to protecting the elderly is not paved with shame-based laws. It is built through:

•  Universal social pensions
•  Accessible public healthcare
•  Community-based elder care
•  Reforms to informal labor retirement inclusion
•  Respect for personal agency and trauma histories

Conclusion: Context Matters

Filial responsibility, when implemented in systems like Singapore, is reinforced by social equity, economic security, and mutual care. It functions in a system where state support is primary and family support is secondary, optional, or supplementary.

In the Philippines, however, where the social protection floor is weak and shrinking, legislation like the Parents Welfare Act risks turning family love into a mandated debt—and turning economic hardship into criminal liability.

As one policy expert aptly puts it: “Care should never be enforced through law. It should be enabled through justice.” 

When Moralism Isn’t Policy: Why Panfilo Lacson's “Parents Welfare Act of 2025” Risks Doing More Harm Than Good

When Moralism Isn’t Policy: 

Why Panfilo Lacson's “Parents Welfare Act of 2025”

Risks Doing More Harm Than Good

In early 2025, Senator Panfilo “Ping” Lacson refiled his proposed Parents Welfare Act, a bill that seeks to impose criminal penalties on children who abandon or fail to support their aging, sick, or incapacitated parents. Citing the erosion of traditional Filipino family values and invoking the increasing visibility of elderly individuals living in neglect, Lacson described the bill as a moral corrective to a social crisis that, in his view, has gone unchecked.

But critics argue that while the bill may be cloaked in concern for the elderly, it fails to engage with the structural realities that shape elder care in the Philippines. More than anything, it reflects a dangerous trend among lawmakers: relying on moralistic legislation in place of comprehensive policy.

Codifying “Filial Duty” Without Context

At the heart of the Parents Welfare Act, currently under discussion in the Philippine legislature, lies a controversial premise: that familial responsibility—particularly from adult children to their elderly parents—can be codified, enforced, and criminalized when neglected. The bill proposes to legally obligate children to provide financial and emotional support to aging parents, with penalties such as fines or imprisonment for non-compliance. While the intent may stem from concerns over the welfare of the elderly, this initiative transforms a historically moral and cultural duty into a state-enforced legal requirement.

This raises serious questions, both legal and ethical. It touches upon issues of autonomy, class inequality, gender roles, and state overreach into the private domain of family life. Moreover, it risks universalizing the ideal of "filial piety" without adequately addressing the social and economic conditions that shape intergenerational care.

The Cultural Roots of Filial Piety—and Its Limits

Filial piety (utang na loob, xiao, oyakō kōkō) is a well-known value in many Asian cultures, including the Philippines, where extended families and intergenerational solidarity are still strong in rural and working-class contexts. Traditionally, children are expected to care for aging parents as a form of gratitude and reciprocal duty. But legal scholar Jonathan K. Ocko and historian David Gilmartin have noted that the legal codification of filial piety in Confucian societies was always fraught with tension between morality and enforceability.

In societies like the Philippines, where this value is embedded more in informal kinship networks than in codified law, turning this expectation into a statutory obligation may undermine the very moral basis on which it stands. It shifts the basis of care from love and loyalty to fear of punishment—a fundamental alteration of the familial bond.

Legal Mandates vs. Structural Support

Critics argue that enforcing support obligations without providing adequate state welfare mechanisms is a way of offloading public responsibility onto private citizens. Instead of improving pensions, expanding elderly care services, or developing universal health care, the law would penalize poor or estranged children—many of whom may themselves be struggling to survive.

According to sociologist Vicente Rafael, this reflects how the Philippine state often “relies on familialism as a substitute for state accountability”. The Philippines, like many Southeast Asian nations, lacks a robust eldercare infrastructure. As of 2023, the country allocated only around 0.7% of GDP to social protection programs, compared to over 6% in some OECD countries.

Criminalization and Coercion: A Legal and Moral Misstep

Transforming moral obligations into legal imperatives also risks weaponizing the law in cases of family conflict. Legal experts have warned that such laws could be abused by manipulative parents or by local officials seeking to exploit family dynamics for political ends.

The Philippines is not alone in experimenting with this approach. India, Bangladesh, Singapore, and China have all passed some version of a Maintenance of Parents Act. But in practice, enforcement is patchy, selective, and often entangles already broken or dysfunctional family relationships in court systems ill-equipped to handle emotional grievances.

For instance, Singapore’s Maintenance of Parents Act (1995) allows elderly parents to sue their children for financial support. Yet many choose not to, fearing stigma, family backlash, or prolonged litigation. Similarly, China’s 2013 amendment to its elder law required children to “visit often,” but faced ridicule and implementation issues due to vagueness.

Gender and Class Implications

Laws like the Parents Welfare Act also risk reinforcing gendered caregiving norms, where daughters—often un- or underpaid—bear the brunt of familial responsibility. Moreover, they overlook how poverty and migration complicate these duties. Millions of Filipino children of aging parents now live abroad or in informal urban labor sectors without the resources to provide steady support.

Instead of criminalizing poor children, critics suggest that elder welfare should be a public, not just private, responsibility—through pensions, affordable health care, housing subsidies, and inclusive community care centers.

Filial care, when freely given, is beautiful. But when coerced by law, it risks becoming oppressive. The Parents Welfare Act, while well-intentioned, represents a moral shortcut to social policy. It shifts blame onto individuals without addressing the structural and institutional roots of elder poverty and neglect.

Policymakers would do well to heed this distinction: a society that truly values its elders must invest in them—not just legislate love from their children.

Lacking the Backbone of Welfare Infrastructure:

A Hollow Mandate for Intergenerational Support

Supporters of the proposed Parents Welfare Act in the Philippines often cite Singapore as a model, pointing to its Maintenance of Parents Act (1995), which enables elderly parents to legally claim financial support from their adult children through a special tribunal. At first glance, such a measure may seem like a practical way to reinforce intergenerational responsibility. But policy experts and social scientists have repeatedly warned that comparisons to Singapore are not only misleading—they are dangerously incomplete if stripped from the broader socioeconomic context that supports such laws.

Singapore’s policy is not a standalone directive. It functions within the framework of an extensive, state-managed welfare infrastructure, which provides dignified aging, income security, and healthcare access. These systems are critical in ensuring that the burden of eldercare does not fall solely on families—especially on low-income households—nor become a punitive tool for criminalizing familial failure in a setting of broader institutional neglect.

Singapore’s Welfare Architecture for the Elderly: A Systemic Approach 

 

To fully appreciate the limitations of the Philippine proposal, it is essential to understand the foundation upon which Singapore’s model is built. The Maintenance of Parents Act operates in concert with a comprehensive suite of social protection policies:

• The Central Provident Fund (CPF): A compulsory national savings scheme that requires both employer and employee contributions, covering retirement, housing, and medical needs. CPF ensures that most Singaporeans enter old age with a personal nest egg, reducing total dependency on children. (CPF Board)
• The Retirement and Re-employment Act: This law mandates employers to offer re-employment to workers up to the age of 67, enabling older adults to remain productive and financially independent. (Ministry of Manpower)
• The Silver Support Scheme: A direct cash transfer program for the bottom 20–30% of senior citizens, disbursing quarterly allowances to those with insufficient retirement savings. (MSF Silver Support)
• Affordable and accessible public housing and healthcare: Over 80% of Singaporeans live in government-subsidized housing, while older adults receive additional grants, priority access to elder-friendly flats, and heavy subsidies for healthcare through MediShield Life and CHAS.

These programs ensure that elderly Singaporeans are not entirely dependent on their children for survival. As such, the Maintenance of Parents Act serves more as a moral safeguard or safety valve, used primarily in exceptional cases—not as the main pillar of elderly welfare.

The Philippine Gap: Absence of a Social Safety Net 

 

By contrast, the Philippines lacks the systemic scaffolding necessary to make similar laws just or effective. Without a strong welfare foundation, legal obligations to support parents may disproportionately punish the poor and vulnerable—those least capable of compliance, and most likely to be criminalized.

• Limited Pension Coverage: According to a 2021 World Bank report, only about 38% of Filipino elderly are covered by either the Social Security System (SSS) or the Government Service Insurance System (GSIS) (World Bank, 2021). This leaves the majority of senior citizens dependent on informal support from family, religious institutions, or local government dole-outs. 

• Inadequate Health Coverage: PhilHealth, the government’s national health insurance provider, has long faced issues of underfunding, inefficiency, and corruption. In 2023, the Commission on Audit (COA) reported billions of pesos in unpaid claims to public and private hospitals, undermining trust in the system and severely disrupting healthcare access for older Filipinos who rely on public hospitals for chronic care and emergency treatment (COA, 2023). 

• Absence of Cash Transfer Programs for Seniors: While there are some local government incentives like the senior citizen’s discount or occasional financial assistance, there is no national equivalent to Singapore’s Silver Support Scheme that provides predictable, needs-based cash assistance to poor elderly citizens. 

• Precarious Employment and Informal Labor: Most adult children who would be legally mandated to support their parents work in the informal economy or are underemployed. The Philippine Statistics Authority estimates that over 30 million Filipinos are in informal jobs as of 2024—without stable income, social insurance, or employer support. Criminalizing failure to support one’s parents in such a context risks penalizing economic reality, not moral failure.

Legal Burden Without State Support: A Regressive Policy Path 

 

The implication is clear: in Singapore, laws like the Maintenance of Parents Act are built atop a robust framework that empowers both elderly citizens and their adult children through policy, not punishment. In the Philippines, enacting a similar law without replicating the broader support systems would result in a regressive policy—one that increases social pressure without providing social protection.

Rather than enabling dignified aging, the Parents Welfare Act could function as a legal escape clause for a government unwilling to invest in universal healthcare, pension reform, or elder housing. Instead of creating public systems that support old age as a social responsibility, it turns aging into a private liability enforced through criminal sanctions.

If the Philippines wishes to strengthen intergenerational solidarity, it must start not with coercive laws but with institutional reforms: expand universal pension coverage, fund public hospitals reliably, improve PhilHealth, and introduce targeted cash transfers for the elderly poor.

Legislating moral duty without providing material support is not justice—it is abdication. In the absence of a real welfare backbone, the Parents Welfare Act risks being less about care and more about control.

A Disproportionate Burden on the Youth:

Moral Duty in an Unequal Economy

The proposed Parents Welfare Act presumes that adult children—regardless of socioeconomic standing—can and should assume legal and financial responsibility for their aging parents. But this assumption fails to account for the harsh economic realities faced by Filipino youth, who would bear the brunt of this legal mandate.

Far from being an ungrateful generation shirking tradition, many young Filipinos today are caught in a triple crisis of precarity: unstable work, limited income, and the rising cost of living. To criminalize their inability to support their parents is not only unfair—it is structurally blind and morally cruel.

Bleak Labor Market Realities for the Young

According to the Philippine Statistics Authority (PSA) in its 2024 Labor Force Survey:

• Youth unemployment (ages 15–24) stood at 12.2%, nearly three times the national average of 4.1%.
• Underemployment among the same group—those working but seeking additional income—remained alarmingly high at 22%.
• Over 52% of households reported reliance on informal or irregular income, with many young people engaged in gig work, daily wage labor, or unregistered micro-entrepreneurship. (PSA, 2024)

This paints a stark picture: the majority of young people do not enjoy job security, stable incomes, or access to employer-based benefits. Many work without contracts, social insurance, or health coverage—meaning they’re barely making ends meet for themselves, let alone positioned to legally support elderly dependents.

Already Carrying the Load: The Myth of Youth Irresponsibility

There’s a dangerous misconception embedded in the proposed bill: that young people are neglecting their elders out of selfishness or moral decay. In reality, many young Filipinos are already serving as de facto breadwinners, often juggling the care of parents, younger siblings, nieces, nephews, or even their own children—all while navigating economic insecurity.

The Asian Development Bank notes that intergenerational dependency flows downward in poorer households in Southeast Asia: young adults support not just parents, but entire extended kin networks, often without any state assistance (ADB, 2022). In such contexts, the expectation of upward support becomes unrealistic, even abusive, when imposed by law.

To imagine that a tricycle driver earning P300 a day, or a call center agent working night shifts to feed three siblings, can be jailed for failing to send money to a parent with whom they may no longer live or speak—this is not justice, it’s state-imposed guilt enforced through criminal law.

Intergenerational Inequality: The Rise of the “Sandwich Generation”

Young adults today are being squeezed from both ends—caught between caring for aging parents and raising younger kin, all while struggling to build their own futures. Sociologists have termed this group the “sandwich generation”, and in low-income countries like the Philippines, it is particularly burdened.

Meanwhile, older generations often had more access to secure employment, land inheritance, or stable government jobs—opportunities now increasingly rare for today’s youth due to neoliberal labor reforms, globalization, and automation.

The younger generation faces:

• Stagnant real wages: Minimum wages have not kept pace with inflation, eroding purchasing power.
• Housing insecurity: Skyrocketing rental costs and informal settlements are the norm, especially in urban areas.
• Educational debt and job mismatch: Many young workers are overqualified for their jobs or working outside their fields of study, limiting career advancement and long-term earnings.

In short, the youth are being asked to support a generation who, while often themselves disadvantaged, came of age in relatively more stable economic conditions—without receiving reciprocal structural support to do so.

Criminalizing Poverty, Not Neglect

The proposed bill, by criminalizing “neglect” of parents, conflates material inability with moral failure. It ignores the reality that the majority of “non-support” cases stem not from indifference, but from deep-seated inequality and systemic disempowerment.

Legal scholar Amita Dhanda argues in similar contexts that “criminalizing familial non-performance in unequal economies tends to punish the poor for the state’s own failures” (Dhanda, 2014). Without social protections like universal pensions, living wages, and accessible housing, the law functions less as a safety net and more as a mechanism of coercion and shame.

For many young Filipinos, the dream of supporting one’s parents in old age is not absent—it is simply unattainable under current conditions. What they need is not guilt or punishment, but policies that:

• Raise real wages and ensure job security
• Expand youth employment and entrepreneurship programs
• Provide affordable housing and health care
• Ensure the elderly have dignified pensions and access to care

Only then can intergenerational care be practiced freely, not under threat of imprisonment. Until that day, laws like the Parents Welfare Act merely shift state responsibility onto the shoulders of the overburdened—and punish them when they collapse under the weight.

The Problem with Moral Appeals in Policy-Making:

Culture and Values, Morals is Not a Substitute for Policies involving Social Protection

Lacson, in defending the proposed Parents Welfare Act, anchored his rationale in a familiar refrain: Filipino family values. “We, Filipinos, are well-known for our close family ties,” he declared—an appeal meant to invoke cultural pride and moral tradition. But critics argue that while cultural values can inform policy, they must not replace it, and certainly must not be used to paper over institutional neglect.

At stake here is not whether filial piety is good—but whether moral duty should be made legally enforceable under conditions of economic inequality, limited public services, and structural poverty. By framing the issue in cultural terms, the bill shifts attention from the state’s responsibility to its citizens to individual failings within families—a rhetorical sleight of hand that replaces public accountability with private guilt.

The Dangers of “Cultural Policy-Making” Without Infrastructure

Appealing to values such as utang na loob (debt of gratitude) or pakikipagkapwa (relational empathy) may resonate emotionally, but as legal scholar Ambeth Ocampo and others have pointed out, culture is dynamic, context-specific, and not a coherent policy framework. To legislate based on idealized notions of “Filipino-ness” is to ignore the diverse lived experiences of millions of families, especially those fractured by:

• Poverty and internal migration
• Family violence or abuse
• Overseas labor and long-term separation
• Dysfunction, abandonment, or generational trauma

In many such cases, the breakdown of familial support systems is not a moral collapse—it is a survival response to decades of systemic failure. Criminalizing non-support in such contexts isn’t enforcing values—it’s weaponizing them against the poor.

The Global Consensus: Support, Not Sanctions

International human rights frameworks offer a sharp contrast to the punitive model implied in the bill. The United Nations Principles for Older Persons (1991), adopted by the UN General Assembly, outlines a vision of aging based on empowerment and state obligation—not family policing. The five core areas include:

• Independence – access to food, water, shelter, health care, and income
• Participation – opportunities for elderly to remain integrated in society
• Care – protection from neglect and access to institutional and community support
• Self-fulfillment – access to education and cultural life
• Dignity – freedom from exploitation and the right to be treated with respect

Nowhere in these principles is there support for criminalizing adult children who are unable—or unwilling—to support their elderly parents. On the contrary, the document emphasizes public responsibility, universal services, and the dignity of choice for both elders and their families. (UN, 1991)

There is also no international precedent among democratic societies for treating familial estrangement or lack of financial support as a criminal offense. Where family obligations exist in law (such as in parts of India, Singapore, or China), they are framed as civil, not criminal, matters—and even then, their enforcement is patchy and controversial, precisely because they conflict with modern understandings of autonomy and structural justice.

Moralism as a Distraction from State Responsibility

In this context, critics argue that appeals to Filipino values function less as moral guidance and more as deflections from government accountability. By invoking tradition, the bill sidesteps uncomfortable but urgent policy questions:

• Why does the Philippines have such low pension coverage for its elderly?
• Why is PhilHealth underfunded and failing to pay hospital claims?
• Why do millions of young Filipinos remain unemployed or underemployed, with no capacity to support anyone but themselves?
• Why is there no national eldercare strategy, even as the population ages rapidly?

Rather than confronting these issues with structural reforms, the law would shift the burden onto already-struggling families—and then criminalize them for failing to do what the state itself refuses to do.

This is especially dangerous in a political climate where moral rhetoric can justify legal coercion. Once familial “duty” is treated as a matter of state enforcement, what stops future laws from criminalizing other forms of moral noncompliance—disobedient children, unmarried adults, estranged siblings?

Cultural values may inspire laws, but they cannot serve as their legal foundation—especially when deployed selectively and in service of punitive agendas. What the Parents Welfare Act represents is a deeper tension in Philippine governance: the tendency to moralize poverty instead of confronting the material conditions that produce it.

Instead of criminalizing the children of the poor, the state must guarantee that no elder lives in hunger or neglect—not because they are loved, but because they are citizens.

Toward Real Solutions: What the Elderly and the Family Actually Need

The proposed Parents Welfare Act rests on a punitive logic: that if families—particularly adult children—fail to provide for their elderly parents, the state must step in and punish them. But experts, advocates, and development practitioners argue that this is both ineffective and unjust, especially in a country where the conditions necessary for healthy, reciprocal intergenerational care have never been fully established.

Rather than criminalizing individuals who are already economically burdened, the state should be working to build systems that allow families and elders to thrive, rooted in dignity, autonomy, and material support. Below are four areas where meaningful, rights-based reform can take place—addressing the root causes of elder poverty and family strain rather than treating the symptoms with coercive legislation.

1. Universal Social Pensions: From Tokenism to Sufficiency 

 

Currently, the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD) offers a ₱500 monthly social pension to indigent senior citizens under its Social Pension for Indigent Senior Citizens Program (DSWD, 2023). While well-intentioned, this amount—roughly $9 a month—is grossly inadequate in the face of rising food, housing, and medicine costs.

Groups like HelpAge International, have called for a universal, non-means-tested pension that provides a basic living income to all elderly citizens, regardless of previous employment status. Research shows that universal pensions:

• Reduce dependency on family members
• Improve nutrition and healthcare access
• Enable autonomy and dignity
• Are administratively simpler and less prone to corruption than targeted programs

Countries such as Thailand, Bolivia, and South Africa have already implemented such systems with measurable success.

2. Community-Run Elder Care Centers: Supporting the Family, Not Replacing It 

 

Filipino families often serve as the primary caregivers for aging parents, but they do so with minimal institutional support. In many cases, caregivers are unpaid, undertrained, and emotionally overwhelmed—leading to burnout, intergenerational tension, and even neglect.

Publicly funded, community-run elder care centers could relieve pressure on families by providing:

• Daily meals and nutrition monitoring
• Social and recreational activities to combat isolation
• Basic healthcare and medication management
• Respite care and caregiver training programs

Such models exist successfully in Japan and South Korea, where day-care-style centers operate within barangays and provide aging adults with social interaction and supervised care while their children are at work. In the Philippines, some LGUs (local government units) have piloted similar programs, but they remain underfunded and unscaled.

Expanding this model nationally would create jobs in caregiving, uplift community health infrastructure, and restore dignity to elderly citizens—without criminalizing their children.

3. Incentivized Caregiving: Recognizing and Valuing the Invisible Labor 

 

In Germany, family caregivers who provide long-term support to aging relatives are given stipends, tax breaks, and access to training programs through a national long-term care insurance scheme. Scandinavian countries, too, offer subsidies, housing allowances, and flexible work arrangements for family caregivers.

In the Philippines, caregiving within the family is often taken for granted—and disproportionately falls on women. By introducing incentives and legal recognition for unpaid family care work, the state could:

Offer tax deductions or direct subsidies for families caring for elders

Support caregiver leave policies under labor law

Provide skills training and mental health support for caregivers

This would not only reduce economic stress, but also restore a sense of agency and fairness to families providing essential but unpaid services.

4. Retirement Reform for Informal Workers: Closing the Coverage Gap 

 

The Social Security System (SSS) provides retirement and health benefits to private-sector workers, while the Government Service Insurance System (GSIS) does so for public employees. However, as of 2023, only about 20% of informal workers were contributing to SSS (SSS, 2023)—leaving the vast majority of workers outside formal safety nets.

Given that around 70% of the Philippine labor force works in the informal economy—farmers, vendors, drivers, freelancers—this is a massive structural gap.

To improve long-term elder welfare, policymakers must:

• Simplify enrollment procedures for informal workers and micro-entrepreneurs
• Offer government matching contributions or subsidies for low-income contributors
• Integrate informal worker coverage with community-based cooperatives or digital platforms
• Increase awareness through targeted campaigns and barangay-level outreach

Without expanding retirement coverage, future generations of elderly citizens will continue to enter old age without any pension, thus perpetuating dependence on family and the criminalization of its absence.

If the goal of the Parents Welfare Act is to uphold the dignity of elderly Filipinos, then punitive enforcement is the wrong tool for the job. Instead of criminalizing children for failing to uphold filial duty, the Philippine government should focus on institutionalizing elder care, strengthening social pensions, expanding labor protections, and investing in public services that relieve—not transfer—burdens from one generation to the next.

As experts have long emphasized: compassion is not law, and law is not a substitute for policy. Real support for families and the elderly begins with systems, not sentences.

Conclusion: Care, Not Coercion

While Senator Panfilo Lacson’s concern for the elderly and the family may well be sincere, the Parents Welfare Act of 2025 is a misguided response to a structural problem. It confuses moral obligation with legal duty, and worse, uses the law to enforce a version of care that many Filipino families simply cannot afford.

By criminalizing poverty and estrangement, the bill does not protect the elderly—it penalizes their children, many of whom are already overburdened, unemployed, or underpaid. The law assumes a level playing field that does not exist. In practice, it will punish the poor, not the negligent; the vulnerable, not the indifferent. It risks turning economic hardship into a criminal offense and using the courts as a substitute for social welfare.

More dangerously, the bill lets the state abdicate its responsibility. It allows the government to invoke family values as a smokescreen for policy failure. Instead of building systems of elder care—universal pensions, public health services, caregiving support—it shifts the burden to families and then criminalizes them for falling short.

This is a legal maneuver masquerading as a moral crusade. It plays on cultural sentiments of utang na loob and filial piety, but in doing so, it weaponizes love and duty as tools of control. It also ignores those seniors who have suffered abuse, abandonment, or trauma—many of whom want safety, not reconciliation, and dignity, not forced dependency.

As social policy scholar Shahra Razavi once put it: “Care is a public good, not a private charity.” Real solutions will not come from guilt or criminal penalties, but from investing in systems that respect autonomy, enable family solidarity, and protect everyone—regardless of their income, history, or family structure.

To put it bluntly: children are not retirement plans.

What elderly Filipinos need is not forced reconciliation, but real, sustainable, rights-based support systems: dignified pensions, access to affordable health care, community-based elder care centers, and protections from exploitation. Families need job security, housing, and social safety nets—not more pressure and legal threats.

The state’s job is not to shame citizens into caregiving—it is to build the conditions where caregiving is possible, dignified, and supported.

Let us be clear:

Let’s stop using morality to cover up policy failure.

The government’s job is to care for everyone—

not to guilt-trip us into doing what they should have planned for.

***

References 

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Ocampo, A. (2018). Looking back: Culture and law in the Philippines. [Essay collection].    

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Resisting Under Pressure: Iran’s Resistance Economy as a Model for Indigenous Innovation, Scientific Development, and Postcolonial Sovereignty

Resisting Under Pressure: Iran’s Resistance Economy 

as a Model for Indigenous Innovation, Scientific Development, 

and Postcolonial Sovereignty

In the 21st century, nations are facing economic hardship, political isolation, or limited access to global markets are increasingly challenged to find alternative pathways to development. One of the most prominent examples of such a response is Iran’s “Resistance Economy” (eqtesad-e moqavemati)—a doctrine that has gained strategic significance within the country’s political and economic framework. Coined and promoted by Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei in the wake of intensifying Western sanctions, particularly following the 2010 nuclear standoff, the Resistance Economy has evolved from a tactical reaction into a comprehensive economic philosophy. It seeks to harness internal resources, enhance resilience, and promote a form of modernization rooted in local innovation, scientific independence, and industrial self-sufficiency.

Far from being a mere defensive mechanism against external economic aggression, the Resistance Economy articulates a vision of endogenous development—one that emphasizes building a knowledge-based economy, reducing structural dependency on imports, and rechanneling domestic capacities toward productive and innovative sectors. As Khamenei declared in his 2014 letter outlining the policy framework, the aim is to “turn threats into opportunities, stimulate domestic production, and promote a culture of entrepreneurship and knowledge-based progress” (Khamenei.ir, 2014). This strategic doctrine represents a unique blend of Islamic economic thought, post-colonial developmentalism, and pragmatic economic nationalism.

Critics—both domestic and international—have often dismissed the Resistance Economy as a euphemism for isolationism or a rhetorical cover for internal mismanagement. However, a more nuanced analysis reveals that the model integrates lessons from both post-war developmental states and late industrializers, while also adapting to Iran’s specific geopolitical constraints. Especially notable is its emphasis on scientific research, indigenous technology, and youth-driven innovation, which positions it as more than just a reactive economic posture, but rather a long-term developmental blueprint.

In this context, Iran's experience presents a compelling case study for other developing nations seeking to revitalize their own scientific and industrial capacities amid systemic global inequalities, technological dependency, or political marginalization. The model invites critical engagement with questions such as: Can adversity serve as a catalyst for innovation? What role can state policy play in fostering homegrown scientific ecosystems? How can nations balance autonomy with selective globalization?

This note explores the Resistance Economy not simply as an Iranian phenomenon, but as a broader developmental paradigm. It will analyze its philosophical foundations, practical implementations in science and industry, key institutional innovations, and the ways in which creativity has flourished under conditions of constraint. Finally, it will reflect on both the achievements and limitations of the model, and the lessons it may hold for other societies navigating the turbulence of a rapidly changing global order.

Origins and Philosophy of the Resistance Economy

The Resistance Economy (eqtesad-e moqavemati) is a strategic economic doctrine that emerged in response to Iran’s prolonged confrontation with Western powers, particularly over its nuclear program. However, its roots lie deeper than sanctions alone. It draws from a synthesis of Islamic economic principles, post-revolutionary developmental goals, and a broader ideological push for national sovereignty and independence. The formal articulation of this model came in February 2014, when Ayatollah Ali Khamenei issued a detailed set of policy directives under the title “General Policies of the Resistance Economy”. In it, he declared:

“A Resistance Economy will prepare the country to face all kinds of economic threats by creating a robust, flexible, and self-reliant structure, emphasizing domestic capabilities, science-based companies, and knowledge-based production”. (Khamenei.ir, 2014)

Rather than proposing total economic isolation, the Resistance Economy is a form of strategic self-reliance, designed to empower domestic production, reduce vulnerability to sanctions and global financial shocks, and create a knowledge-driven growth model that aligns with Iran’s cultural and ideological identity. It can be understood through three core pillars, each with both philosophical and practical dimensions:

1.1. Self-Sufficiency and Import Substitution 

The first and most visible tenet of the Resistance Economy is the prioritization of domestic production over reliance on foreign imports—particularly in critical sectors such as energy, agriculture, pharmaceuticals, and technology. This principle echoes the import substitution industrialization (ISI) models pursued by many post-colonial states in the 20th century. However, in the Iranian context, it also reflects Islamic-Republican ideals of independence from “arrogant powers” (as Western governments are often described in Iranian political discourse). 

For example, rather than depending on Western pharmaceutical giants, Iran has invested heavily in indigenous drug manufacturing, bio-pharmaceuticals, and generic medications. Similarly, it has promoted domestic auto and electronics industries through protectionist tariffs and public procurement. While these measures have not always produced globally competitive outputs, they have fostered resilience, particularly during sanction-induced supply chain breakdowns.

1.2. Support for Knowledge-Based Enterprises (Danesh-Bonyan)

A defining innovation of the Resistance Economy is its emphasis on danesh-bonyan companies—knowledge-based firms founded by university graduates, scientists, and young entrepreneurs. This reflects a strategic decision by the Iranian state to leverage its substantial human capital base. Iran has one of the highest rates of STEM graduates per capita in the Middle East, and its universities have increasingly produced cutting-edge research in areas such as nanotechnology, artificial intelligence, renewable energy, and aerospace.

To institutionalize this support, the government created frameworks such as the Vice Presidency for Science and Technology and Pardis Technology Park, which offer funding, tax incentives, mentorship, and legal protections for startups. These enterprises have become a cornerstone of the state’s drive toward technological self-reliance, especially in replacing sanctioned foreign technologies with local innovations. 

Moreover, the cultural narrative surrounding the Resistance Economy celebrates entrepreneurship as patriotic service, aligning innovation not just with profit, but with national pride and Islamic values. 

1.3. Long-Term Strategic Planning for Sustainable Development 

Unlike short-term fiscal stimulus models, the Resistance Economy places emphasis on long-term, strategic planning based on national priorities. This approach is rooted in the belief that economic sovereignty is not merely a financial issue, but a component of cultural and spiritual independence. 

The doctrine calls for what Khamenei describes as a "Jihadi" approach to management—a term connoting both urgency and ideological commitment. This planning extends across sectors: from support for local agriculture and food security, to the development of decentralized energy systems, to the establishment of parallel financial institutions that bypass Western-dominated channels like SWIFT and the IMF. 

In alignment with Islamic principles, the Resistance Economy also emphasizes economic justice, redistribution, and the empowerment of the poor—although implementation in these areas has been uneven. The model seeks to create a more inclusive development trajectory through the involvement of cooperatives, rural industries, and community-led innovation, often facilitated through parastatal organizations and bonyads (charitable foundations). 

1.4. Strategic Sectoral Focus 

Due to external constraints, the Resistance Economy has concentrated state support on a set of strategic sectors most vulnerable to foreign embargo or disruption. These include: 

• High-tech industries, such as nanotechnology, drone development, and satellite engineering; 

• Agriculture, with a focus on achieving food security through domestic cultivation; 

• Defense industries, where sanctions have forced Iran to develop indigenous capabilities in missiles, cyberwarfare, and electronic surveillance; 

• Energy, including investment in refining capacity, natural gas liquefaction, and renewable sources such as solar and wind. 

Each of these sectors is treated not just as an economic asset, but as a pillar of national resilience and geopolitical autonomy.

In conclusion, the Resistance Economy's philosophy is both reactive and proactive. It responds to sanctions and isolation, but it also seeks to lay the groundwork for an alternative model of development—one that resists the vulnerabilities of neoliberal globalization, celebrates internal capacity, and reorients growth around science, cultural identity, and strategic autonomy. For developing nations grappling with similar constraints—whether economic, technological, or political—Iran’s model offers a controversial yet rich field of experimentation from which to draw insights. 

Knowledge-Based Economy and Scientific Development

At the core of Iran’s Resistance Economy lies a transformative ambition: the construction of a knowledge-based society (jame'e-ye danesh-bonyan). This objective reflects not only a response to external pressures such as sanctions and technological exclusion, but also a deliberate national strategy to modernize Iran's economic foundations, reposition its global status, and create new engines of indigenous innovation. By redefining scientific advancement and technological innovation as tools of strategic autonomy, Iran’s leadership has sought to place intellectual capital—rather than foreign direct investment—at the center of economic revival.

This approach stands in contrast to mainstream developmental paradigms that encourage liberalization, foreign investment, and integration into global value chains. Instead, Iran’s model prioritizes internal capacity-building, with heavy emphasis on human capital development, state-supported research institutions, and domestic entrepreneurship in cutting-edge technologies.

2.1. Scientific Output and the Rise of Iranian Research 

Over the past two decades, Iran has experienced a remarkable surge in scientific productivity. According to UNESCO's Science Report 2021, Iran produced more than 70,000 scientific publications annually by the end of the 2010s—placing it first among Islamic countries and 15th globally in terms of volume. This growth is even more significant given the constraints posed by international sanctions, limited access to scholarly databases, and barriers to global collaboration. 

The Iranian state has invested systematically in higher education, with universities such as the University of Tehran, Sharif University of Technology, and Isfahan University of Technology serving as national hubs of scientific training and innovation. These institutions have contributed to Iran’s leadership in fields such as: 

• Nanotechnology: Iran ranks among the top ten countries globally in nanotech publications. 
• Artificial Intelligence and Robotics: Iranian research institutions are increasingly publishing in high-impact AI journals.
• Biomedical and Health Sciences: Local universities collaborate with hospitals and biotech firms on vaccine development, cancer therapies, and genetic diagnostics. 

A significant factor behind this success is the retention and return of scientific talent, facilitated by scholarships, public-sector research jobs, and ideological appeals to national service. While brain drain remains a concern, many Iranian scientists abroad have contributed remotely or returned to lead projects.

2.2. Biotech and Pharmaceutical Innovation: A Case Study 

One of the clearest manifestations of Iran’s knowledge-based economy is the rise of its biotechnology and pharmaceutical industries, which have grown dramatically despite restricted access to Western patents, raw materials, and medical technologies. 

Companies such as CinnaGen, Darou Pakhsh, AryoGen, and Shifa Pharmed have successfully developed: 

• Biosimilars for diseases such as multiple sclerosis, cancer, and hemophilia;  
• Recombinant proteins and hormones, including human growth hormone and erythropoietin;
•  COVID-19 vaccines, including COVIran Barekat, produced under the auspices of the Execution of Imam Khomeini’s Order (EIKO). 

These achievements stem from targeted state policies encouraging reverse engineering, domestic R&D, and strategic public-private partnerships. Iran has exported its biopharmaceutical products to over 15 countries, particularly in the MENA and Central Asian regions, positioning itself as a regional biotech leader (Ghazinoory, 2015). 

This sector is emblematic of the Resistance Economy’s approach: circumventing international barriers not through isolation, but by leveraging scientific ingenuity, building local supply chains, and cultivating regulatory independence. 

2.3. Knowledge-Based Enterprises (Danesh-Bonyan): Institutions of Innovation 

Another foundational pillar of Iran’s science-centered economic strategy is the promotion of “danesh-bonyan” companies—startup enterprises classified as knowledge-based by the Vice Presidency for Science and Technology. As of 2022, more than 6,000 danesh-bonyan firms were registered, covering sectors such as:

• Information and Communication Technology (ICT);
•  Medical Devices and Diagnostics; Advanced Materials and Aerospace; 
•  Clean Energy and Environmental Technologies.

These firms benefit from a wide ecosystem of support, including:

• Pardis Technology Park: Iran’s largest tech incubator, hosting hundreds of startups and research institutions near Tehran. 
•  Innovation factories (karafarin-sara): Public-private innovation spaces in provincial capitals. 
•  Tax incentives, customs exemptions, and legal protections for intellectual property.

In addition to fostering entrepreneurship, this framework has encouraged decentralization of innovation, drawing talent from across Iran’s regions rather than concentrating it solely in Tehran.

2.4. Scientific Nationalism: Framing Innovation as Resistance 

 

Crucially, Iran’s knowledge economy is not merely technocratic—it is ideologically framed. Science and innovation are embedded within a national narrative of resistance, dignity, and independence. This rhetoric has helped mobilize public support, particularly among the youth, for a project that is often portrayed as a “jihad of science”—an effort to defy sanctions and assert national pride through intellectual achievement.

State media frequently highlight scientific breakthroughs as acts of defiance against “scientific apartheid” imposed by Western powers. This narrative serves both a motivational function for the domestic population and a soft-power strategy for regional influence.

2.5. Challenges and Constraints 

 

Despite impressive gains, the development of a sustainable knowledge-based economy in Iran faces ongoing challenges: 

• Limited access to international research collaboration due to political restrictions and visa barriers; 
• Sanctions on laboratory equipment and raw materials, which hinder experimentation and scale-up; 
• Bureaucratic inefficiencies and regulatory hurdles, which can discourage risk-taking and innovation; 
• Brain drain, particularly to Europe and North America, continues to undermine institutional capacity.

Nevertheless, Iran’s scientific ecosystem has shown a remarkable ability to adapt, improvise, and innovate under pressure, making it a unique case of endogenous scientific development in a developing country under siege.

The development of a knowledge-based economy in Iran, driven by scientific ambition and framed within the broader strategy of the Resistance Economy, demonstrates that science and innovation can flourish even under geopolitical duress. Through institutional support, national mobilization, and state-led entrepreneurialism, Iran has turned structural constraints into opportunities for strategic autonomy and technological growth.

For other developing nations seeking to break cycles of dependency, Iran’s model offers important lessons—albeit ones that must be adapted carefully, considering the particular cultural, political, and economic contexts of each society.

Industrial Regeneration and Indigenous Technology

One of the key objectives of Iran’s Resistance Economy is the regeneration of national industry through localized production, technological self-reliance, and strategic substitution of foreign inputs. This objective has become especially urgent in light of prolonged sanctions that have systematically severed Iran’s access to global supply chains, investment capital, and critical technologies. In response, the Iranian state has pursued an assertive strategy of industrial policy, combining protectionism, subsidies, public procurement, and directed R&D to strengthen key manufacturing sectors.

Rather than abandoning industrial development in the face of isolation, Iran has treated sanctions as a catalyst for innovation and industrial rebirth. The result is a patchwork but increasingly sophisticated ecosystem of domestic industries that now manufacture complex goods—ranging from cars and medical equipment to missiles and satellites.

3.1. The Automotive Sector: Import Substitution in Practice 

 

One of the most illustrative examples of industrial regeneration is the Iranian automobile industry, historically one of the largest in the Middle East. Prior to the re-imposition of U.S. sanctions in 2018, companies like Iran Khodro (IKCO) and SAIPA were engaged in joint ventures with international partners such as Peugeot, Citroën, and Renault. These collaborations allowed for the licensed production of foreign car models and partial integration into global automotive value chains. 

 

However, as sanctions resumed and foreign companies exited the Iranian market, the industry was forced to pivot toward full indigenization. Iran Khodro responded by unveiling new domestically-designed models such as the Dena and Tara, while SAIPA accelerated the production of its own Saina and Quick platforms. These vehicles—though not globally competitive—are functional, affordable, and tailored to the domestic market. Local firms have also developed homegrown engines, ECUs (engine control units), and vehicle control software, thus reducing reliance on imported parts. 

 

The state supported this transition through:

• Tariff protections and import bans on foreign cars;
• Low-interest loans and subsidies to domestic producers;
• Mandated use of local components in assembly lines;
• Tax breaks and incentives for parts manufacturers.

Despite persistent quality issues and consumer dissatisfaction, the automotive industry represents a strategic success in demonstrating how an embargoed sector can reorient itself through localized production and state guidance.

3.2. Aerospace and Defense: Technological Sovereignty under Pressure

Perhaps the most emblematic area of Iran’s indigenous technological development is in the aerospace and defense sectors, where necessity, national pride, and strategic imperatives have converged to drive innovation.

Faced with a near-total arms embargo, Iran has built a formidable domestic defense industry. This includes:

• Drones: The Shahed-129, a medium-altitude long-endurance UAV capable of surveillance and missile strikes, and more recently, the Shahed-136, a loitering munition (also known as a “suicide drone”) that has seen deployment in conflict zones;
• Missile Systems: From short-range ballistic missiles (e.g., Fateh-110) to intermediate-range systems (e.g., Sejjil), Iran has developed a wide array of precision-guided weapons;
• Space Launch Vehicles: The Simorgh and Safir rockets are part of Iran’s efforts to build independent satellite launch capacity;
• Electronic Warfare: Indigenous development of radar, cyberwarfare tools, and signal intelligence systems.

Much of this has been achieved through a combination of reverse engineering, dual-use research, and the adaptation of commercial components for military purposes. These developments are coordinated under the Ministry of Defense and Armed Forces Logistics (MODAFL), along with affiliated research centers like the Malek Ashtar University of Technology.

While these advancements have attracted international criticism and led to accusations of proliferation, they demonstrate Iran’s ability to leapfrog traditional stages of industrialization through focused R&D in high-value strategic sectors.

3.3. High-Tech Manufacturing and Dual-Use Industries

Beyond traditional manufacturing and defense, Iran is investing in advanced and dual-use technologies with both civilian and military applications. This includes:

• Electronics and Semiconductors: Iran has sought to build local capabilities in integrated circuit design, PCB manufacturing, and embedded systems. Though its progress is constrained by limited access to EUV lithography and advanced nodes, indigenous development is ongoing.
• Aviation and Railways: Domestic firms have begun assembling passenger aircraft components and railway engines, often in partnership with Chinese or Russian suppliers.
• Renewable Energy Equipment: Iranian companies now manufacture wind turbines, solar panels, and hybrid system controllers, which are being deployed in rural and off-grid communities as part of the national energy diversification strategy.

These efforts are underpinned by state-supported research parks, university-industry partnerships, and long-term funding commitments from parastatal foundations (bonyads), particularly those aligned with the IRGC and strategic ministries.

3.4. Industrial Modernization and Resistance Narratives

Iran’s industrial policy is not simply technical—it is ideological. State discourse often frames industrial development as a national duty and an expression of resistance against economic warfare. Factories are portrayed in media as “frontlines” of the new jihad—where scientists and engineers, not soldiers, defend the homeland.

This discourse has been effective in mobilizing engineers, university graduates, and managers to embrace a culture of resourcefulness, frugality, and innovation under pressure. Terms like “self-sufficiency jihad” (jihad-e khodkafa’i) and “industrial martyrdom” are invoked to elevate the role of workers and technocrats in the broader struggle for sovereignty.

3.5. Structural Challenges and Industrial Limits

Despite these achievements, Iran’s industrial regeneration faces notable limitations:

• Technological gaps persist in high-precision manufacturing, aviation, and electronics;
• Supply chain vulnerabilities, particularly in high-end materials and components;
• Quality control issues in consumer and automotive goods;
• Over-centralization and bureaucratic inefficiency, limiting the flexibility of industrial policy;
• Corruption and monopolistic practices, particularly within large parastatal industrial complexes.

Furthermore, the exclusion from global value chains makes it difficult for Iranian manufacturers to access advanced machinery, licensing agreements, or economies of scale—thus limiting export competitiveness.

Iran’s experience in industrial regeneration under the Resistance Economy offers an important example of how localized industrial policy, combined with strategic protectionism, ideological mobilization, and state-directed innovation, can produce resilience in the face of economic warfare. While not a model of efficiency or competitiveness in the neoliberal sense, it demonstrates that technological independence—even under siege—is possible when driven by necessity, national vision, and institutional commitment.

For developing countries seeking to navigate a hostile or exclusionary global order, Iran’s industrial response may offer both cautionary lessons and bold inspiration—particularly in how to build strategic sectors, valorize domestic knowledge, and stimulate innovation when cooperation is restricted or denied.

Innovation Under Pressure: The Role of Crisis as Catalyst

One of the most striking features of Iran’s Resistance Economy is how systemic crisis has been reimagined as a source of opportunity—a stimulus for invention, organizational creativity, and problem-solving under extreme constraints. Far from paralyzing development, the economic, technological, and diplomatic isolation imposed by sanctions has catalyzed a form of adaptive innovation, particularly in sectors that would otherwise remain underdeveloped in a dependency-based economic model. This dynamic demonstrates that innovation does not always emerge from abundance or access—but can be accelerated by adversity, especially when coupled with strategic intent and mobilized human capital.

4.1. Sanctions as a Driver of Resourcefulness and Substitution 

 

International sanctions, particularly those targeting Iran’s banking sector, energy exports, industrial machinery, and dual-use technologies, have forced the Iranian state and private sector to find alternative solutions. While sanctions have undeniably harmed macroeconomic stability—causing inflation, currency devaluation, and rising unemployment—they have also:

• Compelled the substitution of foreign goods with locally produced equivalents, even when imperfect;
• Pushed Iranian firms to reverse engineer machinery, software, and pharmaceuticals;
• Incentivized barter and alternative financial mechanisms, such as cryptocurrency mining and trade via local currencies;
• Reduced complacency among industrial managers who previously depended on imports.

As a result, a culture of “do-it-yourself industrialism” has emerged—rooted in frugality, technical improvisation, and informal knowledge networks. Engineering students often learn to design from scratch without access to global components, while manufacturers build supply chains using repurposed materials, salvaged equipment, or locally fabricated parts.

This is reflected in countless innovations across sectors:

• Engineers created homemade CT scan machines and ventilators during the COVID-19 crisis;
• Agricultural experts developed low-water irrigation systems to cope with drought;
• Software developers designed homegrown alternatives to banned foreign platforms, including cloud services, search engines, and social media (e.g., Aparat, Rubika, Soroush).

While not always matching global standards, these domestic substitutes often perform adequately and help insulate Iran from external shocks.

4.2. Crisis-Driven Digital Innovation and Fintech 

 

Another area where crisis has spurred creativity is financial technology. Following Iran’s disconnection from the SWIFT interbank system and restrictions on international credit, developers and state-aligned institutions turned to blockchain, digital wallets, and informal remittance networks as partial workarounds.

Iran is among the world's leading producers of Bitcoin, using cryptocurrency both as a store of value amid inflation and a tool to circumvent capital controls and facilitate international trade—especially with Russia, China, and Venezuela. In 2021, Iran officially recognized cryptocurrency mining as an industrial activity, tying it to the national electricity grid and incorporating it into its foreign trade strategy (Zarifian, 2018).

Digital payments, e-commerce, and state-developed fintech ecosystems have also expanded. For example:

• Shaparak serves as Iran’s centralized online payment clearing house;
• Apps like SnappPay and Bahamta facilitate micro-transactions, charity donations, and domestic transfers;
• Startups in digital insurance, loan platforms, and mobile banking have rapidly grown to fill gaps left by restricted international finance.

These systems are also increasingly integrated with government welfare distribution, allowing for conditional cash transfers and targeted subsidies in lieu of traditional banking methods.

4.3. Environmental Crisis and Green Innovation

Iran’s chronic environmental challenges—including water scarcity, desertification, and air pollution—have also spurred a green innovation movement. While the government’s overall record on environmental regulation is mixed, the necessity of coping with ecological collapse has led to the proliferation of:

• Desalination plants powered by solar arrays in arid southern regions;
• Biodegradable packaging startups, incentivized by the ban on plastic imports;
• Smart irrigation systems, including sensors for water-efficient agriculture;
• Rural solar electrification projects, reducing diesel dependence.

Many of these innovations emerge from local university research centers, municipal pilot programs, and private entrepreneurs. In this regard, necessity has forced Iran to adopt decentralized, sustainable technologies long before it would have done so under conditions of normal market access.

4.4. Cultural Reframing: Innovation as Sacred Resistance

What makes Iran’s innovation under pressure distinct is the symbolic and ideological reframing of technical creativity as an act of “resistance” (moqavemat). In the public imagination, solving practical problems through local ingenuity has been transformed into a form of jihad—a sacred struggle for independence and dignity. This reframing is actively cultivated by the state, which elevates engineers, inventors, and scientists to the status of national heroes.

Terms like “knowledge jihad” (jihad-e elmi) and “economic defense front” have become common in political speeches and school curricula. Youth are encouraged to engage in applied science and entrepreneurship not merely for profit, but as acts of service to the nation. Such ideological mobilization has created a morale-driven innovation culture, often observed in semi-official “science festivals,” televised student competitions, and incubators hosted in religious foundations.

This ethos is particularly effective in rural and religiously conservative regions, where it bridges the gap between tradition and modernity. By embedding innovation in a patriotic and spiritual framework, the Resistance Economy encourages grassroots technological experimentation even in places lacking infrastructure or venture capital.

4.5. Limits and Structural Risks

While innovation under pressure is impressive, it is not without significant limitations:

• Ad-hoc solutions often lack scalability and long-term integration into broader industrial ecosystems;
• Overreliance on improvisation can entrench low standards or “good enough” mentalities that hinder quality and efficiency;
• Closed information ecosystems reduce access to cutting-edge research and global peer review;
• Censorship and political controls on the internet limit collaboration and creative freedom, especially in digital sectors;

The innovation drive risks being instrumentalized by authoritarian structures, used to legitimize repression or co-opt civil society talent into militarized initiatives.

Nonetheless, the capacity of Iranian society to generate situational innovation under conditions of duress remains one of the most revealing—and replicable—aspects of the Resistance Economy. It shows how societies under siege can creatively respond to adversity by tapping into underutilized talent, improvising institutional support, and reimagining crisis as a call to invention.

Iran’s experience demonstrates that innovation is not solely the byproduct of liberal markets or integration into global systems. Under the right conditions—namely a strategic imperative, strong educational foundations, and ideological mobilization—crisis itself can be harnessed as a powerful engine of creativity. The case of Iran offers important lessons for other developing nations grappling with structural constraints, war, or isolation: namely, that adaptability, localized knowledge, and institutional improvisation are potent tools of economic survival and long-term transformation.

Criticisms, Limitations, and Lessons for Developing Societies

While the Resistance Economy showcases how a nation under pressure can foster innovation and self-reliance, it is essential to examine the limits and contradictions inherent in such a model. Not all of Iran’s gains have been equitable, sustainable, or replicable without critical reform. Still, important lessons emerge for other developing societies navigating the tension between dependency and autonomy, between global integration and national resilience.

5.1. Innovation Is Not Always Subordinated to the International Market

A key philosophical insight from the Iranian model is that not all innovation must respond to the dictates of the international market. Unlike models of development tied to export-led growth or foreign direct investment, Iran’s strategy has focused on building internal ecosystems of value creation, even when disconnected from global supply chains or consumer demands.

This stands in stark contrast to many neoliberal economies where innovation is often commodified and shaped by external capital flows, intellectual property regimes, or the tastes of high-income countries. Instead, Iranian innovation is often problem-oriented, responding to national needs such as:

• Producing basic medicines and medical devices for rural clinics;
• Designing software platforms in Persian for domestic use;
• Developing irrigation and water management technologies adapted to local environmental conditions;
• Creating off-grid energy systems for arid and mountainous regions.

As such, innovation is not framed merely as a route to market domination but as a tool for civilizational survival. This opens a broader perspective for developing countries: technological progress can be locally rooted, need-driven, and socially meaningful, even if it doesn’t scale globally.

5.2. Creativity Is Not Solely Driven by Capital

The Iranian case also illustrates that innovation does not require—and need not serve—capital alone. In Western contexts, innovation is often understood in terms of venture capital returns, startup unicorns, and profit-maximizing competition. In contrast, the Resistance Economy has demonstrated that state institutions, religious endowments (waqf), cooperatives, and ideologically motivated actors can mobilize innovation toward public or strategic goals.

Examples include:

• Universities and Basij-affiliated science organizations creating open-access educational resources for underprivileged youth;
• State-funded incubators focused not on IPOs but on supplying the domestic health system or defense infrastructure;
• Village-based cooperatives experimenting with water-saving agriculture or low-cost building materials, outside the reach of major banks.

This model doesn’t deny the importance of financial investment, but it reorients innovation toward long-term national priorities—food security, technological sovereignty, and social cohesion—rather than short-term investor gains.

5.3. Structural Weaknesses and Authoritarian Risks

That said, the Resistance Economy is not without major shortcomings and contradictions. Some of these include:

• Cronyism and inefficiency, especially when state-linked foundations and security institutions dominate industrial sectors;
• Ideological rigidity, which can stifle independent research or punish dissenting voices in academia;
• Brain drain, with many of Iran’s top scientists emigrating due to lack of intellectual freedom or economic opportunity;
• Gender inequality, as structural barriers persist for women in STEM fields, especially in leadership roles;
• Environmental degradation, as the pursuit of industrial autarky sometimes overrides sustainability concerns.

Furthermore, the centralization of innovation policy under state and paramilitary bodies like the IRGC has raised concerns about the militarization of knowledge production. While innovation is celebrated, it is often filtered through the lens of national security, which can limit openness, creativity, and ethical debate.

5.4. Lessons for the Global South

Despite its imperfections, the Iranian experience holds valuable insights for other developing countries facing economic dependency, sanctions, or systemic underdevelopment:

Endogenous capacity building is not only possible but necessary. Societies should invest in local human capital, scientific infrastructure, and technical education before relying on foreign capital or imports.

National innovation agendas can be defined in terms of survival and dignity, not just profit. This includes framing technological advancement as part of a larger struggle for sovereignty, sustainability, and cultural continuity.

Crises can serve as developmental accelerators if harnessed strategically. Adversity often forces institutional creativity, cross-sector collaboration, and unconventional problem-solving.

Plural models of innovation must be recognized. The world must move beyond the Silicon Valley archetype of entrepreneurialism and embrace diverse innovation ecosystems, including state-led, cooperative, or mission-oriented models.

Society must interrogate the ends of innovation. Developing countries must ask: Who is innovation for? What needs does it serve? Whose lives does it improve?

In sum, Iran’s Resistance Economy offers a bold—if imperfect—alternative to conventional developmentalism. It reveals that innovation can flourish under siege, that science can serve sovereignty, and that a nation need not wait for global validation to solve its most urgent problems.

Conclusion: Innovation as Sovereignty, Development as Liberation

Iran’s experiment with a Resistance Economy underscores a provocative and timely thesis: development is not merely a question of access to global markets, foreign capital, or integration into neoliberal trade regimes. Rather, it is a reflection of political will, cultural vision, and institutional imagination—the capacity of a society to define progress on its own terms, guided by its own priorities and rooted in its people's aspirations.

In choosing to build a system based on self-reliance, endogenous innovation, and national capabilities, Iran has challenged the dominant orthodoxy that equates development with dependency on international institutions or corporate investment. Its emphasis on cultivating domestic science, industry, and creativity under pressure proves that innovation is not the exclusive domain of the rich or the well-connected, but can emerge in places besieged by sanctions, isolation, and scarcity—so long as there is an internal commitment to growth and dignity.

But this is not to romanticize Iran’s model or overlook its contradictions. It is not a universal blueprint, nor is it without deep flaws—especially where authoritarian governance, exclusionary practices, and environmental shortsightedness prevail. What it does offer, however, is a bold framework for thinking differently: that technological progress and creativity must serve the needs of the people—not the dictates of foreign markets or elite capital.

This means asking: What is innovation for? Who benefits? Whose problems are we solving? True development must not be measured solely in GDP or number of patents, but in the ability of a society to feed its people, educate its youth, heal its sick, defend its patrimony and sovereignty, cultivate its growth, and express its culture with dignity and freedom.

In this light, Iran’s Resistance Economy can be read as part of a larger tradition of post-colonial economic thought—echoing the ideas of thinkers and leaders from the Global South who argued that development must be a process of national liberation. Liberation not just from formal colonial rule, but from structures of economic dependency, cultural inferiority, systemic injustice, and enduring poverty.

Such a model proposes that:

• Science and innovation must be democratized, not monopolized by a technocratic elite or foreign firms;
• Creativity must reflect the cultural, social, and material realities of the people, not the imported desires of distant consumers;
• Development must be redefined—not as mimicry of the industrialized West, but as a sovereign journey toward justice, equity, and ecological balance.

Iran’s approach, with all its complications, reinforces an urgent truth for the 21st century: a nation does not need permission to build, create, or imagine. It does not need to wait for investment or recognition. What it needs is conviction—anchored in the people’s will to survive, to thrive, and to shape their own future.

As developing societies seek alternatives to exploitative globalization, Iran’s model offers a powerful reminder: even under siege, a nation can cultivate resilience, generate knowledge, and foster innovation. It challenges the prevailing assumption that progress must flow from integration into global markets or the favor of foreign powers. It shows that science need not serve empire, innovation need not be driven by capital, and development need not wait for permission. Not because such societies possess all the resources—but precisely because, in many cases, they have no choice. And in that necessity, they may uncover a deeper, more emancipatory vision of modernity—one rooted not in dependence or imitation, but in sovereignty, creativity, and liberation.

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https://www.csis.org/analysis/irans-military-forces-and-warfighting-capabilities

Ghazinoory, S., Riahi, S., & Azadegan-Mehr, M. (2015). Iranian pharmaceutical industry: Innovation challenges and opportunities. Journal of Commercial Biotechnology, 21(2), 23–28.

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https://www.ikco.ir

Khamenei.ir. (2014, February 19). The general policies of Resistance Economy issued by the Supreme Leader.

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