Behind our independence are journalists who stood for Filipinos.

Censorship, as defined in dictionaries, is the forbiddance of public communication and speech. But journalists from then and now have been facing much more than just its denotation. So, in celebration of the 128th Anniversary of the Philippine Independence Day, let’s take a look at our history.

During the 333 years of Spanish colonization, the shackles that kept Filipinos at bay were also wrapped around their mouths. As the main form of communication was in printed media, printing presses were under the scrutiny and control of the church and state. This makes the freedom of speech of Filipinos seem more like a mere whisper. Biased towards the benefit of the Spanish rulers, friars, and Filipino elites, there has been a clear distinction that consciousness was published for the upper class and those in power. Written more commonly in Spanish, it was deliberate that the broadsheets and tabloids were not meant to be read by the common Filipino.

Because, of course, educated and woke Filipinos pose a threat to the government—even today.

As added weights, the Spanish officialdom implemented censorship laws that tightened their hold on the pens of journalists. Any discouraging news related to Spain was rigidly censored, bending the country under their watchful eye in both politics and religion. In the literal use of “watchful eye”, a board of censors were always inspecting. Composed of four individuals appointed by the governor and four more by the archbishop.

Thanks to Araling Panlipunan and Filipino subjects, you must be aware of the revolutionary papers that changed the Pacific tides. La Solidaridad, Kalayaan, La Independencia, El Renacimiento, and many more have unwrapped the chains loose and pulled on them. A bold but integral move that reminded the colonizers that they were on Philippine soil. Undeniably, because of its radical context, Spanish officials had it banned. This was a transparent counter-attack that showed that they were mindful that their 300 years of restraints were becoming rusted metal.

On the other hand, in a brighter light, Kalayaan was issued in Filipino, reflecting the lividness of the masses. During the revolutionary times, Diariong Tagalog and El Ilocano have both pushed Filipino journalism to the national scene. Seeing this, the role of the fourth state has been a major factor in the movement of the country since day one.

Moving on, whitewashing had not just been part of our history and culture since the American colonial period. It had also supplemented another rope around writers. To put salt on a still-open wound, the Sedition Law of 1901, attested and affirmed by Governor General William Howard Taft, bolted another lock to Filipinos’ free speech.

“It shall be unlawful for any person to advocate orally, or by writing or printing like methods, the independence of the Philippine Islands of their separation from the United States, whether by peaceable or forcible means or to print, publish, or circulate any handbill, newspaper, or other publication advocating such independence or separation,” quoted in the regulation.

And since colonists never liked us taking a break, even for a second, the Japanese during the Second World War acted as the puppeteers in a nation being controlled in a marionette show. It's as if the islands were different stages executing the same performance. Taking the literal definition of executing, any wrong mention of the Japanese Imperial Army and you’re surely a winner of a free bayonet strike through you. The “greatness” that they were trying to imprint on us was the same as the whitewashing of the Americans. And before you think there must be a leeway since both nations were Asian, those with the courage to speak up, to let their sharp tongues express for themselves, have earned themselves a sharp death sentence as a consequence in opposition of their ruling.

“There’s no censorship at present,” Marcos Sr. stated.

During the Martial Law, media outlets were allowed to operate. But hold on, the commonalities of allowed publications were all owned and operated by Marcos’ devotees and peers. Behind these, issues such as inflation, unemployment, and the value of our currency dropped. Within its first week, Chino Roces of Manila Times, Teodoro Locsin Sr. of Philippine Free Press, and others were arrested and detained due to the notion: “engaged in subversive activities against the government.”

From this, the manacles only tightened more. As Primitivo Mijares, the Chairman of The Media Advisory Council, was Marcos Sr.’s main media man, media outlets were under uncompromising assessment. Mijares measured every form, from editorials to political advertising, they were on the track to being banned. Much like the censors in the Spanish colonial era, any unacceptable manners of citation would be grounds for libel cases and in extreme times—assasination.

In recent times, media outlets and journalists face institutional systems. Red-tagging, intimidation, digital harassment, and surveillance have been the leashes that constantly checked our press freedom. Cancel culture has also been rampant. If they weren't responsible for the mishaps, with the public view, the act of typing first before thinking rages more than its opposite.

The Center for Media Freedom and Responsibility (CMFR) and the National Union of Journalists of the Philippines (NUJP) have recorded a 44% increase of attacks under the Marcos Administration, with 184 cases in comparison with the 128 under Duterte. Metro Manila became the top hotspot for the incidents with a sum total of 95 cases, and online platforms acted as the top frequent targets.

Since Marcos Jr. took seat, five journalists' cases were noted. Rey Blanco, Percy Lapid, Crescencio Bundoquin, Ma. Vilma Rodriguez, and Juan “Johnny” Dayang, respectively.

Regardless of what flag rippled, the one constant was the initiative of writers to inform the public of the truth and nothing but the truth.

The presumption that journalists are “bayaran” is a contumelious remark. Our history speaks for itself. Journalists are frontliners, facing national risks despite knowing that their safety is excluded—this is why not everyone can be one.

If Jose Rizal, a journalist, is respected, then why do our modern reporters meet dangers instead of protection?

Our frontliners should be protected from red-tagging and other institutional threats. Because when disaster strikes, media workers are the ones broadcasting outside in danger zones—not influencers.

Censorship may be the government’s best friend, but it is not enough to hinder journalists who stand for Filipinos.

The Frontman