Home Is Where the Cyber Libel Is
I haven’t been back home in years. Some things you don’t forget — beautiful white sandy beaches, the alluring smell and sound of whole pigs spit-roasting on the side of the road, and some of the friendliest and most generous people you’ll ever meet in your life. I’m referring to my origin island nation of the Philippines, and currently, it has begun to feel a little less friendly than I’d remembered.
On July 3, 2020, President Rodrigo Duterte signed in the Anti-Terrorism Act, and it fully took effect on July 17. The bill, which acted as an amended version of the pre-existing Human Security Act, was meant to further crack down on President Duterte’s impositions over growing strained relations with Islamic State-siding insurgents in the Southern Philippines, but also drug pushers and their constituents. Lately, however, people have seen how the finer print makes a world of difference.
Did I say difference? I meant authoritarianism.
One of the most notable differences between the Human Security Act of 2007 and it’s modern counterpart deal mostly with the criteria that the Philippine government gave to the word “terrorist” (Hint: there’s a lot). There were several new guidelines re-defining “terrorism” as an act, as well as different statutes set in place regarding arrest and detention. What people found most troubling was how lax these new standards were, in favor of the government and police systems of the Philippines. Essentially, if the government or any authority figure believed you to be a terrorist, in the eyes of the public, you were one.
The limit to this law was not simply placed on only individuals, but on entire entities as well. ABS-CBN, the Philippines’ largest tuned-in to news network, was recently taken off the air and had their franchise un-renewed out of spite from Duterte, who, during his 2016 campaign, received harsh criticism from the station towards his policies. This wound, still very fresh, has impacted Filipinos nationally and internationally, with ABS-CBN having a 47% average national audience share, the highest in all the Philippines (think NBC in U.S. terms). So thus, the question should be asked: Why stop there?
It is entirely possible that President Duterte could further extend his censoring to other networks, primarily that within the social sphere. One of the most recent major cases pertaining to this is that of a Philippine online news CEO, Maria Ressa. Charged with cyber libel, Ressa was recently given 6 years in prison for defaming the name of a property developer in the Philippines, something that sparked a newfound trend of attacks on the media, which has heavily limited their already suppressed power from this new act.
Yes, it is the case that media is a large grey area of ideas that can and cannot come into fruition, but when penal censorship is placed on areas that the people believe are opportunities for benefitting the country, the question of morality falls to the government. While no news of a possible social media ban have been heard of in the Philippines, it is possible that one may be on the horizon, one that comes at the cost of what a democracy stands for. The people were the ones who placed Duterte in power, and so it should be their right to express what expectations they have of him as a leader. Having a quiet reception to someone’s leadership may mean that everything is just fine, but usually, it is far from.
When you undermine your people in the name of nationalism, you inadvertently take away from the nationalistic spirit of your country. To limit what a country’s citizens can say out of fear that piercing words can bring to thin skin is simply an act of cowardice. A leader should turn to their people and understand that pure authority is nothing more than a passive aggressive war between those in power and those below them. Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words will probably garner you a punishment far worse.
I don’t know when I’ll be back home, but when I do go back, I hope I’m not labeled a terrorist too.
