Wazzup Pilipinas!?
In Philippine media, few clashes reveal the deep fractures between journalism and public relations more starkly than the recent exchange between Pasig City Mayor Vico Sotto and broadcast veterans Korina Sanchez and Julius Babao. At first glance, the controversy seems to revolve around whether a certain contractor family paid ₱10 million for favorable coverage. But peel away the noise, and the heart of the issue is far more enduring—and far more dangerous: the credibility of journalism itself.
Mayor Vico did not accuse the veteran journalists of violating the law. He did something more unsettling: he called out what he described as “shameful.” His words cut through the fog of denial and counter-denial, putting the spotlight not on payment, but on perception. And in journalism, perception is often reality.
Lifestyle Journalism Is Still Journalism
Much of the pushback from Sanchez and Babao’s defenders rests on a familiar refrain: “This is lifestyle, not journalism.” The argument suggests that stories about personalities, politicians, or contractors—when framed as “life stories”—are not bound by the same standards as hard news. But this distinction, as newsroom veterans point out, collapses under scrutiny.
Lifestyle journalism, whether in print, broadcast, or online, is journalism. Full stop. Reporters and editors in lifestyle desks are bound by the same ethical codes—whether from the Kapisanan ng mga Brodkaster ng Pilipinas (KBP) or the Philippine Press Institute (PPI)—as their colleagues in news and current affairs. To suggest otherwise is to erase decades of work from writers who have chronicled culture, travel, fashion, arts, food, and yes, even personalities, with rigor and responsibility.
In fact, lifestyle sections have historically carried the weight of sustaining media organizations. Readers often bought newspapers and magazines for features, arts, entertainment, and travel pieces, while advertisers funneled millions into advertorials and “special features” in these sections. Yet this economic reality did not exempt lifestyle journalists from the duty of transparency. If an article is paid for, it must be disclosed. If airtime is sponsored, it must be labeled. Anything less risks blurring the fragile boundary between editorial independence and advertising influence.
The Peril of “Life Story” Coverage
This is why the public skepticism toward Sanchez and Babao is not unfounded. In an era where exposure itself is political capital, featuring politicians or contractors under the guise of lifestyle storytelling cannot be divorced from its implications. Media visibility, no matter the framing, has tangible value—especially for public figures with reputational baggage.
Calling a feature a “life story” does not negate its power to sanitize, humanize, or even glorify individuals who stand to benefit politically or financially from a softer public image. And when such coverage involves personalities with ties to government contracts or politics, the line between journalism and public relations becomes perilously thin.
This is what Mayor Vico was pointing out—not that money necessarily changed hands, but that credibility is compromised when journalists lend their names, platforms, and reputations to subjects whose interests go beyond storytelling. The public does not parse these nuances the way insiders do. To the audience, exposure is endorsement. And once they suspect that airtime can be bought, trust evaporates—regardless of whether there was actual payment.
Credibility: The Media’s Only Currency
The journalism profession has always stood on precarious ground, sustained not by wealth or power but by one intangible, irreplaceable asset: credibility. Strip that away, and media loses its reason for being.
The danger in the current controversy is not just the blowback against two well-known broadcasters. It is the creeping normalization of blurred lines, where “life stories” serve as backdoors for reputation management, and where audiences are told to separate soft journalism from hard journalism—as if ethics can be compartmentalized.
Veteran journalists know better. Codes of ethics were written not to divide beats but to uphold integrity across them. Whether covering a war zone, a city hall scandal, or a contractor’s family portrait, the duty remains the same: to inform the public truthfully, independently, and without undue influence.
The Lesson Moving Forward
The clash between Vico Sotto and the Sanchez-Babao camp is not merely gossip fodder. It is a mirror reflecting journalism’s deepest vulnerability in the age of influence. It forces us to ask uncomfortable questions: Who gets featured, and why? When is a story a story, and when is it PR? And most crucially, how much trust can the public still extend to media institutions whose stars blur those lines?
At the end of the day, journalism has only one shield—public trust. Once the audience begins to believe that stories can be bought, no denial, legal threat, or semantic distinction between “news” and “lifestyle” can restore it.
That is why Vico’s critique stings. It is not about ₱10 million. It is about credibility—the lifeblood of journalism, the very thing that makes people listen. Lose that, and the profession becomes indistinguishable from public relations.
And once journalism becomes PR, it stops being journalism at all.
Ross is known as the Pambansang Blogger ng Pilipinas - An Information and Communication Technology (ICT) Professional by profession and a Social Media Evangelist by heart.
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