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.

On bread, butter, and the myth of the envelope

THERE is a pervasive, cynical whisper that floats around political circles — and sadly, sometimes echoes even within our own ranks.

It goes something like this: these politicians wonder if media practitioners could even eat regularly if they didn’t receive anything from them.

It’s a statement dressed up as a noble critique of corruption, but let’s be real: it serves as a lazy, blanket insult to a profession and a convenient erasure of actual hard work.

This is disconcerting. It betrays a fundamental misunderstanding of what the news media community actually is.

We are not a monolith.

We aren’t a hive mind where every worker drone operates on the same frequency of compromise.

We are a motley crew of workers with divergent beliefs, various political colors, and different economic realities.

To assume that a journalist cannot feed their family without the patronage of a politician is to assume that journalism itself has zero market value. It ignores the reality of honest-to-goodness hard work.

This editorial cartoon was created by Gemini Pro.

In my 28 years in this community — 10 of which were spent grinding as a freelance correspondent for international news wires — I have a newsflash for the cynics: Nakapakaon pud baya ko sa akong banay gikan sa akong hinaguan.

International wire work is not for the faint of heart. It is paid in sweat, strict deadlines, and blood pressure spikes. It does not pay in favors; it pays in output. And believe it or not, that output puts food on the table.

More importantly, it paid for tuition. To date, I have sent my children through school on this income alone. I have seen them graduate, one by one. Isa na lang kulang.

That is the ultimate receipt.

When you raise a family on honest money, the food tastes different. It tastes like dignity — with a side of clear conscience.

To suggest that we need a politician’s “blessing” just to survive is to discount the thousands of column inches written, the photos filed, and the deadlines met by honest workers in this industry.

We are not all the same. And for those of us who have ground it out for decades, we don’t need the handout. We have the receipt.

The news media has a social contract with the citizens of the republic. Our role is to hold the powerful to account. That is why we are called the Fourth Estate — we are the check and balance to the other three.

Here’s a wild idea for the onion-skinned politicos: How about you do your job, and we’ll stick to ours?