Saint George as the dragon

TO THE English philosopher Edmund Burke we owe the observation that among the three Estates (the Aristocracy, the Clergy, and the Commons) in Parliament is a Fourth: the Press. While not a physically visible presence in the benches, said Burke, the Fourth Estate is a power nevertheless, and “more important than they (sic)  all.”

The Irish poet, playwright and wit Oscar Wilde was to later declare that “The Lords Temporal (the aristocracy) say nothing, the Lords Spiritual (the clergy) have nothing to say, and the House of Commons has nothing to say and says it.” Wilde concluded that “We are dominated by Journalism.”

The Press as the Fourth Estate is a concept that has survived both Burke and Wilde, who in their lifetimes acknowledged both the power of the Press in a democracy as well as the need for such a power. Societies have changed since and so have the forms of democratic rule. But the main task of the Press in a democracy remains that of  monitoring and holding power to account.

In the Philippine setting the Press is generally regarded as the Fourth Estate, although there’s disagreement over what constitutes the other three. The by now conventional view is that the three Estates are the three branches of government in a presidential system: the Presidency, the Judiciary and the Legislature. If we went by its classical origins, however, the three other Estates  are social categories first and political ones after, the former being the determinant of the latter. What is fundamental, however, is the idea that the three Estates in government, whatever they may be at a given time in the history of democratic governance, possess political power, which in a democracy demands that they and the way they exercise that power be monitored by, among others, the Fourth Estate.

Despite the killing of journalists and State attempts to abridge press freedom, Press power  is in the Philippines still a reality not only made possible by the protection of Article III Section 4 of the Constitution. It is also sanctioned by both journalism practice as well as by public assumptions and its implicit, though often limited understanding, of the role of the Press in society. Press power is evident in the capacity of the Press to strike fear in the hearts of public figures who have anything to hide, and who are usually politicians—and in the attempts of the latter to regulate and subject the Press to some form of control despite the Constitution. One of the more interesting demonstrations of Press power in the Philippines is also the public’s reliance on the Press and media, rather than on State institutions, to correct injustice or address citizen grievances via so-called “public service programs”.

The Press and individual practitioners are therefore far from marginalized and certainly not voiceless. They are in fact at the very center of the public stage whose mandate as observers, commentators, and analysts also makes them de facto actors not only in politics but in every area of social life.

And yet there is an ongoing campaign to have a media and Press party list group accredited, which would reverse the reprehensible practice in which public officials end up commenting on public issues as regular columnists or commentators. One of the worst practices in Philippine journalism is that of  the media’s making public officials, whether elected or appointed, columnists.  The practice makes the monitored his or her own monitor. Putting in Congress the nominee or nominees of a media and Press party list group would on the other hand make the monitor also the monitored.

In either case, the effect has been and would be the same: it would make, in the language of the late National Artist Nick Joaquin, Saint George (the Press) also the Dragon (public officials). The result of this bizarre state has been and will be a raging conflict of interest: between the Press’ basic responsibility of monitoring, criticizing, and holding government officials to account on the one hand, and the interest of a government official (which the nominee of the party list group would be) in concealing information, or to at least present information that would put him or her in a good light. Rather than government officials’ straddling government and media, this campaign for a Press and media party list group, if successful, would make Press and media people straddle media and government—or, to put in the more picturesque language of Philippine proverbs, it would put the Press in the impossible situation of being in one boat that’s navigating two rivers at the same time.

The result would be equally detrimental for both the Press and government. The journalistic task of the Press and media nominee in Congress would be hobbled by the impulse to protect his/her interests as a public official, while his/her public official task of working in behalf of public interest would be compromised by his/her awareness of divided Press and media attention—and his/her capacity to influence and even shape it. The mother of this conflict of interest is the reality that the Press is already a power, far from voiceless, and is certainly not marginalized.