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COMMENTARY | When truth gets you killed, silence becomes complicity 

BY KENT ALISTAIR V. GERONA

 

IN A democratic society, the role of journalists is not optional; it is essential. They report the truth, uncover injustice, and serve as watchdogs of power. Yet in the Philippines, press freedom is constantly tested not by censorship alone, but by fear, violence, and indifference. On World Press Freedom Day, we are called not just to celebrate a right, but to defend it.

It is not enough that freedom of the press exists in the Constitution. If, in practice, journalists are killed or harassed for doing their job, then our democracy is paper-thin. Journalists operate without protection in many parts of the country, especially in the provinces, often covering stories that powerful individuals want to keep buried.

Some will argue that press freedom is already being protected. But when impunity reigns, laws lose their meaning. Until journalists can work without fear, and until attacks are met with accountability, then press freedom remains under threat. Silence in the face of these attacks is complicity. We must choose to either protect this freedom, or watch it erode in real time.

That choice was placed in sharp focus with the killing of Johnny Dayang, a seasoned journalist and former president of the Publishers Association of the Philippines. Shot just days before World Press Freedom Day, Dayang’s death is both a tragedy and a wake-up call. He spent decades defending media freedom, only to become another name in the growing list of journalists who paid the ultimate price.

According to the National Union of Journalists of the Philippines (NUJP), at least 199 journalists have been killed since 1986. Many of these cases remain unresolved. The Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) continues to rank the Philippines as one of the most dangerous countries for journalists. This culture of impunity sends a chilling message: that truth-telling can cost your life, and justice might never come.

These killings aren’t happening in a vacuum. Red-tagging, a practice where individuals are baselessly accused of communist ties, has been used repeatedly against journalists and activists alike. The National Task Force to End Local Communist Armed Conflict (NTF-ELCAC) has been criticized by local and international groups for conflating dissent with terrorism. In an environment like this, journalists are painted as threats, not as contributors to a healthy democracy.

We must also acknowledge that rural and local journalists covering corruption, land disputes, or illegal activities in their own communities are most at risk. They often lack institutional support or security, yet they persist. Johnny Dayang was one of them, choosing to remain active in community journalism long after his retirement. His story is proof that dedication to truth can exist quietly and end violently.

To truly honor press freedom, we must move beyond symbolism. Laws must be enforced, justice must be delivered, and protection mechanisms must be improved. But more than that, citizens must recognize that press freedom is not just a concern for journalists–it’s a public issue. A country where journalists are safe is a country where truth survives. And when truth survives, so does democracy.

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Kent Alistair V. Gerona is a third-year political science student at the University of Cebu-Main. This piece is written as part of their school requirement.

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