Of rats and rants

IT’S an open secret that the Cogon Public Market has seen better days — probably days when tartanilyas still ruled our streets. But apparently, pointing out that the place is a biohazard has suddenly become a dangerous proposition.

When Franklin Dagcuta, the president of the Market Vendors Association, raised a red flag linking the market’s grim sanitary state to a case of leptospirosis, he probably expected a mop. Maybe a pressure washer.

Instead, he got a political ultimatum.

City Councilor Enrico Salcedo — Agaw Eric, apparently the Grim Reaper of Speech to his critics — threatened to declare the vendor leader persona non grata unless he publicly apologized.

This serves as a chilling reminder: In the hallowed halls of the City Council, preserving the government’s Facebook aesthetic often takes precedence over actually sweeping the floor.

This begs a critical question for Cagayan de Oro: Has the City Council prioritized reputation management over public safety? Are we protecting the people, or are we protecting the poster?

A tale of two rodents

Let’s get personal. My ex-girlfriend and I once braved the Cogon Public Market “food court” (heavy quotation marks intended).

In the middle of devouring a slab of humba, a furry creature scurried over my foot. I looked down and saw what appeared to be a “spotted squirrel.”

Now, logic dictates that since we were not in a forest, it couldn’t have been a squirrel. It was, in fact, a rat the size of our Persian cat. I mistook the mange-induced bald spots on its back for the markings of the endangered Xerospermophilus perotensis.

I posted this on Facebook as a funny observation about how neglected the market has become.

But in light of recent events, should I issue a public apology to Agaw Eric? Does my review of a rodent require a retraction under threat of legislative exile?

The Councilor’s response to Dagcuta wasn’t to investigate the rats; it was to silence the whistleblower. This isn’t a request for accountability; it is coerced speech.

The Constitutional pushback

Demanding an apology under the threat of sanction forces a citizen to publicly disavow their reality just to avoid a scarlet letter. It implies that criticizing city management comes with a social price tag.

But let’s look at the law, shall we?

For the nth time, persona non grata is a diplomatic term usually reserved for foreign spies or ambassadors who commit major faux pas. But since the City Council loves throwing this phrase around like confetti, here is the reality check:

A City Council resolution cannot “banish” a Filipino citizen. The Supreme Court and the DILG have consistently held that local legislative bodies cannot prevent a Filipino from entering their city. Doing so would violate the Right to Travel and Liberty of Abode.

Sa ato pa, this declaration is legally toothless.

It is a legislative temper tantrum designed to assuage the “bruised” egos of councilors, not to protect the city’s residents. Remember: The councilors are employees of the city. 

We are Cagayan de Oro City, not them.

The chilling effect

The threat is essentially a formal expression of displeasure — a government-issued “unfriend” button.

But here lies the rub: Dagcuta apologized. Why? Because while the law is on his side, the power dynamic is not. He represents vendors who operate at the mercy of the city government.

This wasn’t an apology; it was a hostage video.

Dagcuta shouldn’t have to apologize for describing reality — unless the rats (sized like mid-sized cats) in Cogon Market were the ones offended.

Using a legislative body to censure a private citizen for a comment on public infrastructure is a gross mismatch of power. 

Even if Dagcuta’s medical link to leptospirosis wasn’t scientifically peer-reviewed, since when is being wrong a crime?

A vendor leader — and any citizen — should have the Constitutional right to be wrong without facing political exile.

When the government uses a sledgehammer to crack a nut, it creates a “chilling effect.” It sends a message to every other Kagay-anon: Do not complain about the smell, do not point out the rats, or you will be next.

The bottom line

Ultimately, this political intramural is a distraction. By focusing on Dagcuta’s “offense,” the narrative shifts away from the actual issue: the market is dirty.

The apology has become more important than the sanitation.

In a democratic space, the feedback loop between the government and the governed is sacred. If pointing out that a market is filthy results in a legislative threat, that feedback loop is broken.

This drama isn’t just about Dagcuta. It is about the fundamental right of any citizen to complain about their city without fear of retribution.

The persona non grata status should be a shield against actual threats to the city — the daylight killings, the crime syndicates, the visiting motorists with noisy mufflers — not a weapon used to smack down critics who just want a cleaner place to buy and eat.

Hard pass on ‘Pahinungod’: Why I won’t break bread a hypocrisy

THE invitation arrived with all the trappings of officialdom and intended goodwill. 

The Misamis Oriental provincial government has invited the Cagayan de Oro Press Club to "Pahinungod," a gala ostensibly dedicated to honoring the local media.

As the club’s vice president for print, I have a short, unequivocal response: Hard pass.

I will not be an accomplice to this ostentatious display, nor will I lend my presence to an event that reeks of irony.

It requires a particularly short memory to accept this invitation without flinching. 

It was, after all, only late last year when the Governor stood before a captive audience at the Capitol and undressed the local press. She didn't just call us biased; she weaponized our economic reality against us.

She painted practitioners as destitutes, condescendingly remarking on how we struggle to feed our families on “meager salaries.” It was a backhanded statement that implied our poverty makes us vulnerable, unethical, or irrelevant.

I also remember that all the big media organizations issued a statement of rebuke for that incident.

That moment stripped away the veneer of mutual respect. It revealed a mindset that views the press not as a pillar of democracy to be respected, but as a charity case to be pitied — or worse, bought.

To attend “Pahinungod” now would be to validate that condescension.

It sends a signal that while we may be insulted from the podium one day, we can be pacified with a banquet the next. It suggests our dignity is cheap — priced at the cost of a catered meal.

But beyond the personal insult to the Fourth Estate, there is a more pressing issue: the morality of the expense.

Hosting an extravagant gala on the public peso is an exercise in tone-deaf governance. 

We are living in tight economic times. To lavish funds on a party for the press — while Capitol employees reportedly wait for delayed wages — is not just insensitive; the optics are grotesque.

Public funds are finite. Every peso spent on appetizers and venue rentals for a self-serving “tribute” is a peso that should have gone to the people who actually keep the provincial government running.

Journalism is not about being feted by the powers that be. It is about holding them accountable. 

We do not need a gala to validate our existence. 

What we need — and what the public deserves — is a government that respects the role of a free press without resorting to economic shaming, and one that prioritizes its workers’ salaries over its image.

So, keep the invitation. Keep the banquet. I prefer to keep my self-respect.

Let's try empathy for a change

EMPATHY is an evolutionary necessity. 

It is the principle of self-preservation in practice because it enables us to understand and share the feelings of others. When we can place ourselves in someone else’s perspective — to walk in their shoes — we can respond appropriately to threats. 

That is why empathy is vital for our survival as a species.

However, it is disheartening to see this human imperative eroding from our collective psyché. 

Many Kagay-anons and Misamisnons seemingly haven’t recovered from the hateful rhetoric that targeted the news media community during the 2016 campaign.

​It has been nearly a decade, yet politicians appear to be carrying on the vitriol-laden narrative patterned after former President Rodrigo Duterte, who now faces the looming shadow of the International Criminal Court.

​Spreading hate has become routine. 

As I warned in a column years ago, apathy is the most unfortunate byproduct of impunity. 

I submit that empathy can trump apathy, but only if we fight to survive the “post-truth era” we now inhabit. 

How can we endure if we continue down this path of unbridled hostility against the Fourth Estate?

​The governor vs. the news media

In a flagrant display of hostility earlier this week, Misamis Oriental Gov. Juliette Uy did not merely accuse the media of bias; she weaponized their economic reality.

​Addressing provincial employees, she questioned whether journalists could survive on their meager incomes and then dangled personal financial assistance. 

She crossed a clear line — a gesture media groups rightly slammed as a thinly veiled attempt to purchase the silence and independence of the press.

The incident has garnered a sobering response. 

The Cagayan de Oro Press Club stated that “legitimate criticisms of public officials have been met not with transparency, but with vitriol.”

​Meanwhile, the National Union of Journalists in the Philippines-Cagayan de Oro Chapter noted that while Uy clarified she was not referring to all journalists, her failure to name specific individuals “drags the entire community” of ethical reporters.

​As the Kapisanan ng mga Brodkaster sa Pilipinas (KBP) correctly noted, there is a mechanism for addressing media misconduct, and it isn't found in broadsides delivered from a podium. 

Even the Capitol's own press corps was taken abacked by the governor's sweeping statement.

By ignoring due process in favor of blanket accusations, Uy risks creating a chilling effect. 

This brand of rhetoric is an intimidation tactic — a dangerous signal to send when the public is demanding transparency.

​Politics and evolution

This political strategy relies on what Dr. Richard Dawkins famously referred to as the "selfish gene." 

The Governor’s tactic appeals to the basest instinct of survival: Take the money, forget the community, feed yourself.

​We could debate whether self-preservation requires such selfishness. But as Dawkins wrote: “Let us try to teach generosity and altruism because we are born selfish... we may then at least have the chance to upset their designs.”

​When leaders trade empathy for intimidation, and transparency for transactions, they are betting on our "selfish genes" winning. 

They are betting that we are too hungry or too afraid to care about the truth.

​Why don’t we prove them wrong? 

Haven’t we had enough of the free-flowing hate? 

If we are to survive as a community in this toxic environment, we must upset the design. We must find our way back and assert our humanity.