Price of truth

Marc Nathaniel Servo

Journalists have always self-regulated themselves within the tight scrutiny of integrity and public service, the same values that separate them from vloggers in an era of doubt: writing for the people, not for profit. The problem, however, is if journalists remain underpaid, the price of the truth becomes a matter of survival—one that integrity and public service can’t provide. 

When Pasig City mayor Vico Sotto aired out his frustrations online on the allegedly paid interviews by journalists Korina Sanchez and Julius Babao to Sarah and Curlee Discaya, the public is quick on the uptake—obviously, the rags-to-riches story sewn by the Discaya couple is a populist tactic to make them approachable to the masses prior to the midterm elections. The fact that journalists are complicit in fostering this story is disappointing.

Feature and lifestyle stories, unlike what Sanchez’s team claims, are not beyond the ethical standards set within the journalism industry. While a rags-to-riches story is a common magazine topic, when obvious red flags are glaring at your face, the priority should remain on uncovering the truth.

In the interview, Sarah Discaya played out her routine life story made for political acclaim: a daughter of two loving Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs) in London—a chambermaid mother and a waiter father in a hotel. Before politics, she first worked as a receptionist and climbed the corporate ladder to become the Chief Financial Officer and Marketing Manager of several construction firms, while her husband owns St. Gerrard Construction General Contractor Development Corporation. 

Ironically, stories like this usually tell more than what is implied: from the 40 luxury cars by their garage to the unexpected revelation that their success began with contracts from the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH) are two such things.

After all, there’s no inspiring success story derived from milking government contracts, nor is there any amazing lesson taken from luxury cars bought from the nation’s coffers. This is clearly corruption, borne from government contracts—most likely flood-control funding invested to prevent disaster in the country. 

As veteran journalists, Sanchez and Babao are expected to unravel this type of investigative journalism instead of the obviously sewn-up poverty porn. After all, their influence could make or break a political power. If Sanchez and Babao can be paid to dodge these critical facts, what becomes of journalism? What makes them any different from vloggers? 

In a media landscape plagued by disinformation, distrust, and the rise of Artificial Intelligence, our position as journalists is shaky. Therefore, we must never break the public’s trust—and ensure that our values remain true to our core.

More than an apology, what we must ask Sanchez and Babao then is how they could be accountable for their irresponsible journalism. Otherwise, when journalists report on certain names, people will always wonder how much is paid for these coverages.

Beyond the Discaya couple, this discussion should steer towards the tightrope that corporate journalism treads—how profit can weigh more than truth, when the salaries of journalists remain low. This is not to say that we should stop condemning Sanchez and Babao, but to understand that this is not the first nor the last time these things would happen as long as journalists remain underpaid.  

With the inclusion of threats and stress that come as a package with our field, oftentimes, the easier choice is to succumb to greed. This weakness forced many journalists to go beneath their bottom lines, because it meant survival. So condemn Sanchez and Babao as you want, but this won’t change anything when the people in power continue to utilize their capital to leverage against us. 

While it is disappointing to witness the shortfalls of veteran journalists, this debacle should not end with the shaming, but towards actual change—one that presses for better welfare of journalists, so that the choice to remain truthful becomes easier, even by a tiny margin. 

Because while journalists report about others, no one is there to actually report about our situation aside from ourselves. Now that the discussion has opened, perhaps a moment of dismay could become a catalyst to bring about qualitative change for the media community.

Only then can we truly stay true to serving the people.