Pinoy shorthand

Kalapating mababa ang lipad” translates loosely  into rooftop skimming pigeons. It is Pinoy shorthand for  “harlot.” The axiom resonated at the Philippine Press Institute’s conference yesterday.

“Attempts at self-regulation  are failing,” Center for Media Freedom and Responsibility’s Luis Teodoro warned. Media’s ethical lapses  court heavy-handed government  interference.

This threat emerges  in spillover from the August  2010 coverage of eight Hong Kong tourists and a hostage taker killed at Luneta, CMFR says. Reporters and istambays jostled with cops for vantage posts in the 10-hour standoff. From initial denial, networks argued that the police didn’t  set the limits of media coverage, Teodoro noted.

Journalism ethics stipulates care to prevent harm. Was this beyond networks, once ratings and ad revenues are involved? CMFR  asked. Belatedly, networks argued: Government did not set limits of coverage. In so doing, they  jettisoned  self-regulation. Yet this is the only option for a democratic society.

As late as August 2011, RMN insisted: They were  “just doing (our) job.” “We are sometimes factually reckless,” Washington Post’s Meg Greenfield once said. On other instances, “we’re morally smug. On our worst days, we can be both.”

Kapisanan ng mga Brodkaster ng Pilipinas clapped  P30,000 fines on ABS-CBN’s Channel 2, Radyo Mo Nationwide and TV5. They leaked operational details and compromised rescue efforts. RMN staff butted into negotiations. “Slap on the wrist,” critics scoffed.

“The press is free, like the air,”  UK prime minister William Pit (1759-1806) once sneered. “It is a chartered libertine.” In today’s English, that would read “constitutionally protected prostitute.”

“Kalapating  mababa ang lipad” becomes more  problematic as Internet, cell phone,  Facebook, etc., move truth—or falsehood—at “warp speed.” In the past, a scoop stood until the next edition. Today it lasts only until the next click of a mouse.

“News organizations are abandoning the race to be the first to break the news,” the Economist notes. “[They’re] focusing instead on being the best at verifying.” The need is for more, not less, of hard-nosed reporting of facts and commentary anchored on values.”

CMFR’s paper did not include   print’s  experience with self-regulation. It  is longer but just as mixed as that  of  broadcast.

Recall the 1965  Philippine Press Council. One of its first rulings skewered  the yearly awards to “Ten Outstanding Congressmen,” by  journalists on the Lower House beat. Business reporters  quietly junked similar awards on their beat.

“It was the first significant attempt to  establish a system  of professional control,” notes  the book “Marcos and  Martial Law.” (Cornell University) But  “the Council had only a brief history . . . Complaints  were few.” And martial  law aborted  this initiative.

After People Power I, a Press Council was reconstituted. But it didn’t  command similar  broad support of publishers as did the  earlier Council. Some  members ignored  a Council  request: Publish  rejoinders by  Marian School academic supervisor Antonio Calipjo Go to criticisms for his campaign  against flawed public school  textbooks.

“A cabal of columnists (went) hammer and tongs against Go after his campaign . . . resulted in the Department of Education banning (some) materials,” Inquirer’s Fernando del Mundo recalled.   “The torrent of invectives in op-ed pages . . . came in the midst of  refiling of an alleged extortion case that a court dismissed earlier.”

Most criticism didn’t rebut textbook errors. Instead, they zapped Go’s bona-fides. “The columnists’ campaign to shoot the messenger . . . killed [Go’s] message,” Del Mundo wrote. “Defective textbooks are one of the root causes of the decline in Philippine education.”

President Benigno Aquino III and Education Secretary Armin Luistro publicly  supported Go. By then, “kalapating mababa ang lipad”  strangled Manila ’s post-Edsa  press council.

Only Cebu has a functioning press council  today. Organized in 2011, Cebu Citizens Press Council  acts on complaints against media. It  addressed issues ranging from coverage of minors in conflict with the law, anti-obscenity, decriminalization of libel, etc. CCPC protested against   mandatory—and unconstitutional—“right of  reply” four years before SB2150 and HB3306  almost slipped through Congress.

Is an oversized  kalapati  roost finally being  dismantled at the Bureau of Customs?

“Our membership lists remain porous,” a 2004  Press Freedom Week editorial admitted. “We still have  to flush out hao-shiaos who flash  oversize self-printed press cards or blocktime microphones… notably in Customs.”

Commissioner Ruffy  Biazon signed this year   Memorandum Order 37 to ferret out “fake journalists who engage in illicit activities” in customs. The BOC issued 55 IDs to legitimate media. It  rejected almost double that number, mostly from tabloids or  radio blocktimers.

Those shut out asked the Supreme Court to (a) zap  Biazon with a Temporary Restraining Order and  (b)   strike down Memo Order 37.  Reason? “It curtailed press freedom.”

“A  claim of press freedom is tainted when right to information is  misused for personal requests or sleaze,” SunStar’s Public Standards  editor Pachico Seares snapped. “Access to information is unimpeded. It’s only the number of people covering BOC that is reduced.”

No TRO has been issued. Apparently, the Court doesn’t see “clear and imminent danger to press freedom.” That liberty can be used as a “last refugee for scoundrels.” Or if you prefer, kalapatis.