The struggles of the community press

The struggles of the community press
Surviving politics and poverty
By Nathan Lee and Jose Bimbo F. Santos

CAN AN independent press survive in an environment of political warlordism and economic want?
Members of the country’s provincial press have long been wrestling with this question. In some community papers, the ties that bind journalists to local politicians are so strong that they go beyond the election period, when local politicos  pull out all the stops to win, or keep themselves in, power.
In Antique, there are only 15 known media practitioners. As few as they are, they have nevertheless been known to be torn between the camps of two rival politicians—Antique Rep. Exequiel Javier and Gov. Salvacion Perez.
“Walang independence ang media,” was how Eric Otayde, former town councilor and provincial board member, succinctly described the condition of the press in the province.
Local businessman Rani Rodriguez, a former journalist in Palawan, agreed that Antique journalists were “definitely” tainted politically.
With a population of only about 472,000, Antique’s community is so small that everybody literally knows everyone else. Such a situation makes it difficult for journalists there to be independent, said Rodriguez.
“Let’s face it. Here in the province, we live next door to our sources and to the people we are often critical about. It’s like being inside a pressure cooker all the time. We are easy targets for retribution,” Danilo Vergara, former publisher of Philippine Post and secretary of the Mindanao Press Club and Iligan Press Club, once said.
Vergara knew whereof he spoke. He was killed on July 1, 1991, shot at point blank range by three unknown individuals as he was stepping out of a printing press office.

Weak economy
The problem of the press in small communities is made worse by the fact that businessmen, who are supposed to provide revenue-generating advertisements, rarely take interest in small provinces like Antique.
“Antique is a very small province. Hindi ka rin masusuportahan ng mga malalaking advertisements kasi wala rin namang malalaking negosyo, ” Rodriguez said. As a result, media enterprises turn to politicians to keep themselves financially afloat.
According to Otayde, “Didikit ka sa politiko dito. Garapalan dito. That’s the simple word I can use to describe media practices here.”
“The local media cannot survive without the support of the politicians,” admitted Rev. Edeon Febrero, a local priest and station manager of Catholic-owned dyKA.
He described the relationship between politicians and journalists thus: “they need us as much as we need them.” In fact, 30 percent of the local radio station’s revenues come from political broadcasts.
“The bottom line is economics,” said Rodriguez, adding wistfully that if journalists were given good salaries by their offices, “perhaps they can stay neutral.”

Regulation issues
Aside from the poor economic condition of journalists, lack of regulation in the industry also helps perpetuate questionable practices.
The Kapisanan ng mga Brodkaster ng Pilipinas (KBP), the self-regulatory body for the broadcast industry, has a Standards Authority that enforces rules and regulations. While having a very detailed code, however, the KBP has difficulties enforcing its standards because of lack of personnel.  The penalties for violations are also minimal, with only P6,000 charged for a first offense, an amount that makes violation a tempting option.
“Walang ngipin ang KBP,” declared Reynaldo Torres Sr., IBC station manager for Davao.
In Davao, election period signals the mushrooming of “political” radio block timers. Locals call them “warik-warik” or “fake media.”
A journalist told PJR Reports about an incident when a visiting politician from Manila attended a forum at a local hotel. He was immediately surrounded by a group of radio reporters who casually asked money from him. The politician, a well-known national figure, refused to give the reporters any money, the journalist said.
Politicians are not the only sources of illicit income for certain journalists in Davao. Apparently just as lucrative is the practice among block timers to use their programs for gambling. During their programs, block timers would offer their listeners tips for winning an illegal numbers game. Winners are asked to share 10% of their prize with the block timer.
According to Florencio Colina, KBP station manager of Davao, block timers usually get anywhere from P300 to P1,000 from the tip.
“O, nanalo tayo, ah. Baka makalimutan ninyo,” is the friendly reminder some block timers say to their lucky listeners.
But with the erosion of media ethics and the people’s right to know, could anybody really be winning?

‘Jukebox’ journalists
In her state-of-the-province address on Sept. 7, 2006, Governor Perez dubbed the local media practitioners as “jukebox” journalists, apparently for singing the tune of the politicians who give them money.
A local official in Antique, for example, sees no need for a public relations officer because the job is being done by journa-lists in his payroll, said a source who requested anonymity.
A journalist working for a regional newspaper in Antique admitted receiving anywhere from P500 to P1,000—upon the recommendation of the management of the newspaper he works for.
“Our publisher also has an agreement with the provincial government to print its press releases in exchange for advertisements,” the journalist revealed.
If there is money in writing favorably about a politician, there must be even more money in writing for politicians who have enemies.
Some Antique residents claimed that the political conflict in the province could be blamed on the local media.
“Hindi magkabati ang dalawa (Perez and Javier) dahil sa media,” some residents said.
And because journalists have become identified with one politician or the other, officials like Javier have taken to banning those media members known to support his rivals. The public is left with either no information or, worse, one-sided information.

Beggars, saviors
“Politicians look at media as beggars,” Hernan Baldomero, reporter for Panay News, said, adding “The media look at politicians as saviors.”
Except for politicians, no one in the local community is willing to spend money to put up a credible media organization.
In Palawan, media practitioners do not usually rely on politicians for survival, as evidenced by the presence of independent journalists in that province. But Palawan journalists have another kind of problem.
On the afternoon of May 22, members of the media in Puerto Princesa were stunned by the news that Fernando “Dong” Batul, broadcaster for dyPR, was gunned down in broad daylight by two unidentified individuals.
The murder happened at a time when residents were looking forward to the two-week long Baragatan festival at the Capitol Park Square,” said the Bandillo ng Palawan. It was the first time that a journalist was killed in their province.
“Many locals have commented that it could have not have been done by a Palaweño. No one who was born and raised here, or who has chosen to call Palawan his or her home, could have done such a thing,” Bandillo reported.
And yet the murder happened.  Residents and journalists themselves suspected that politics had something to do with the killing since Batul was a very vocal critic of the local government.  Batul did not spare Puerto Princesa Mayor Edward Hagedorn from his tirades. In fact, Hagedorn had sued Batul years before the murder.
“In a city where government corruption is often talked about in whispers and most anomalies are simply swept under the rug, Dong Batul had the courage to take his crusade to the airwaves,” Bandillo also reported.
The mayor, however, quickly quashed speculations that he might have had something to do with the killing of the journalist. He offered a bounty of P500,000 for the capture of the killers.

Elusive killers
The murder of George and Maricel Vigo, part-time journalists who were actively involved in non-government organization (NGO) work, were likewise believed to have been caused by local politics in Kidapawan.
Unidentified men gunned down the Vigo couple last June 19 for reasons many believed to be political. George was a contributor of the Union of Catholic News while Maricel was a host of dxND Radio for Peace and executive director of the NGO People’s Kauyahan Foundation, Inc.
Before their murder, the Vigo couple had received “threats coming from local politicians,” according to a colleague who requested anonymity after also receiving threats. The Vigos were staunch critics of the Piñol family in Cotabato. Cotabato Gov. Manny Piñol vehemently denied any involvement in the incident.
Police authorities identified a certain Dionisio Madanggit, an alleged member of the New People’s Army (NPA), to be the killer. The NPA, however, denied any involvement in the slaying.
One month after the killing, Task Force Vigo (TFV) filed a criminal complaint before the city prosecutor, Al Calica. But the complaint was dismissed by Calica for “insufficient and contradictory evidence.” TFV, formed by Piñol, disbanded immediately after the complaint was filed.
Gregorio Andolana, legal counsel of the Vigos, is still gathering evidence against a certain Toto Amancio, allegedly a known gun-for-hire in Cotabato.
There is as yet no end in sight for the violence with which journalists in the community press have to contend with and which  often victimizes its members .  With the elections just a few months away, the violence is likely to escalate as political warlordism and poverty continue to wreak havoc on the media.

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