by Sheila S.

Coronel

Despite its free-wheeling image, the Philippine press is beholden to its owners, some newspapers more
so than others.

LAST FEBRUARY the Manila Standard headlined a story alleging that a mysterious BMW President
Joseph Estrada was being chauffeured around in belonged to Quezon Rep. Danilo Suarez, who was then
being investigated for dropping the president’s name to land fat government contracts. The story, it turned
out later, was false; the vehicle was actually owned by businessman Manny Zamora, whose brother
Ronnie is the executive secretary. But the damage had been done, or so Estrada thought, and the
president—who was already feeling besieged by a press he believed was unfairly critical—was raging
mad.

Standard publisher Andy del Rosario says that one of the owners of the newspaper, businessman
Enrique Razon Jr., apologized to the president for the error. During their phone conversation shortly after
the report was published, Erap was understandably still seething. To appease him, Razon asked, “What
do you want me to do Mr. President, fire my editors?”
The question, says del Rosario, was intended as a joke to lighten a moment heavy with presidential ire.
But what if Estrada had called Razon’s bluff and answered yes instead?

Movie scribes remember that in his previous life as an action film star, Joseph Estrada wasn’t exactly
tolerant of a bad press. He was sometimes so mad over what had been written about him that he would
seek out the offending reporter and express his displeasure by urinating on the man. Erap doesn’t do that
anymore. But he can still spew out the equivalent of presidential piss.

He can chew out on the phone a newspaper owner like Razon, who happens to have lucrative contracts
to service government ports and is therefore wary of Malacañang displeasure. The president can also
threaten a libel suit and a tax audit, as in the recent case of the Gokongweis, a family whose vast
business holdings include the Manila Times, which reported in February that Estrada stood as “unwitting
godfather” to a supposedly anomalous power contract. Or, as in the case of the Philippine Daily Inquirer,
he can, on top of ordering a tax audit, also have a business ally threaten the withdrawal of advertising at a
time when the paper was hammering on the involvement of presidential kin in the textbook funds scandal.

So far, Estrada has shown an unerring aim. Where else to hit newspaper owners but in their rather ample
pockets? Given the domination of the media by families with business conglomerates subject to
government regulation, the most obvious chink in the armor of the press is naturally the business
interests of newspaper owners. Faced with the prospect of presidential spleen, the fearful owners of the
Standard and the Times eventually did the expedient thing: apologize for the offending stories.

The Gokongweis—whose diversified business empire includes manufacturing, telecommunications,

banking, retail trade, real estate and agribusiness—were a particularly easy target. With so many
businesses that have to deal with government, they have reason to fear having state regulators and tax
auditors breathing down their necks. Unlike the Standard, which acknowledged it reported wrongly, the
Times still insists that its story had factual basis, although it did neglect to say in the beginning that the
Gokongweis were a minority owner of the power company that lost the bid for the contract. Nonetheless,
Robina Gokongwei-Pe, the president of Metromedia Times, the company that owns the newspaper,
issued a front-page apology to the President for the “anxiety” caused by the report. Three editors
resigned in protest.

Estrada was criticized for bullying the media after that incident. While there may be basis for this criticism,
it is also true that it took a bully of a president to show up the Philippine press, with its reputation for being
so free and so fearless (even when it is wrong), for what it is: vulnerable to pressure on its proprietors and
protective of the interests of its owners.
FOR THE MOST PART SUCH VULNERABILITY
has been hidden from public view. Most readers do not realize that behind the screaming headlines and
the strident editorials are real constraints on the freedom to write freely. The front pages and opinion
sections of the Manila papers attest to the existence of a robust and rambunctious press, often critical of
government and suspicious of authority. There is virtually no government control of publishing and no
official censorship exists. The Philippine media operate under one of the laxest systems of state
supervision in Asia, restrained only by laws on libel and sedition. As far as newspapers are concerned,
the government exercises direct influence only on the sequestered Journal publications, although a
recent court decision handed back the management of the company to its original stockholders, instead
of a government-appointed board.

Given the constitutional guarantee of a free press, it is very difficult for government to intervene in the way
newspapers are run, except by filing charges in court. Officials therefore have tried to influence media
coverage in other ways: by paying off journalists or by exerting pressure on press proprietors, many of
whom operate a wide range of interlocking corporate concerns.

Most of the businesspeople who own newspapers are too busy to intervene in day-to-day editorial
decision-making, but that has not stopped them from inhibiting journalists from exercising their duty to
report fairly and responsibly. Newspapers have been used, some to a greater degree than others, to
defend their owners’ political allies or otherwise advance their proprietors’ business concerns. In many
cases, newspapers have tended not to rock the boat on issues involving government officials and
agencies regulating business. Newspapers have also been utilized by their owners to wage political and
business battles.

SOURCE: BUSINESSWORLD TOP 1000 CORPORATIONS

RANK COMPANY GROSS REVENUES NET INCOME (LOSS)

212 Manila Bulletin Publishing Corp. P2,281629 P502,541

280 Philippine Daily Inquirer Inc. 1,753,984 269,316

500 Philstar Daily, Inc. 946,978 48,144

 935 Philippine Journalists, Inc. 471,306 (101,966)

During the Ramos presidency, for example, newspaper owners used the editorial pages of their dailies to
persuade Malacañang to set aside the outcomes of public biddings that were unfavorable to them. In
October 1995, the Manila Bulletin, the country’s second largest newspaper, ran daily front-page stories
criticizing the awarding of the sale of the Manila Hotel to a Malaysian consortium. The paper asserted that
the historic hotel was part of the national patrimony and should therefore be sold to a Filipino company.

The fact was that Bulletin publisher Emilio Yap, whose other business interests till then lay mainly in
banking and shipping, had lost the bid and used the paper to convince Ramos to reconsider the results.
The president did intervene, by asking his aides to work out a compromise with the Malaysians. In the
meantime, Yap filed a case in the Supreme Court, using the national patrimony argument, and again, the
Bulletin, to argue his point. The Supreme Court, in a controversial decision, later decided in Yap’s favor;
the Bulletin’s publisher is now also the proprietor of the Manila Hotel.

In August and September 1996, the Manila Standard ran editorials and news stories questioning the
awarding by the Subic Bay Metropolitan Authority (SBMA) of the contract for port services to the Hong
Kong company Hutchison Ports Philippines Inc. One of the Standard’s owners, the Razon family who
runs the International Container Terminal Services Inc. (ICTSI), had lost the bid. The paper campaigned
for reconsideration, and other dailies followed with news reports in the controversy. In the end, as a result
largely of the media brouhaha led by the Standard, President Ramos ordered the bidding rescinded.

These two cases demonstrate how press proprietors have abused their powers, setting aside the canons
of good journalism by using the opinion and news pages of their papers to campaign for their business
interests. In both these instances, media owners have put the profitability of their other business
enterprises over that of their newspapers’ duty to report without fear or favor.

It would be simplistic, however, to say that newspapers are merely mouthpieces of their owners. The
reality is complex and the situation in each newspaper is different from the others. Proprietors intervene in
editorial matters in varying degrees and different ways. Some give their editors a wide area of freedom to
decide on a spectrum of stories; they may even refuse to intercede on behalf of their business interests
although they will intervene when they are under severe pressure from powerful officials to slow down on
critical reporting. This seems to be the case with the Gokongweis of the Manila Times.

Other owners meddle mostly when their business interests are at stake, usually by ensuring that their
side of a business dispute is prominently played up while preventing their rivals from having access to the
newspaper. Such owners will also intervene in editorials or political and business stories, often as favors
to friends or when they think the reporting has become too critical of key officials. The rest of the time,
they leave their editors to decide on what the paper can print. For the most part, this is the situation at the
Standard. On the other extreme, the owner takes the place of editors as gatekeeper of news and
information, deciding what readers will find in their morning paper. From interviews with reporters and
editors, this extreme is exemplified by the Manila Bulletin.

THE EXTENT OF proprietorial intervention varies, not only according to what interests are at stake, but
also according to the bargaining power of editors. Some editors manage to strike out a relationship where
owners have a hand in drafting editorial policy but leave the newsroom decisions to professional
journalists. The Inquirer, which started out as a fighting, journalist-owned opposition paper, operates very
much on this mode, even if its main owner, the Prieto family, is involved in businesses that include a
paper mill, fast-food chains and real estate.

BUSINESS INTERESTS OF BUSINESS INTERESTS OF EDGARDO ESPIRITU

PRIETO/RUFINO FAMILY
(owns 2/3 of Inquirer shares)
Golden Donuts, Inc.
Golden Pizza, Inc.
Republic Chemical Industries Inc.
Makati Cinema Square Corp.
Merchants Investments Corp.
Bataan Pulp and Paper Mills
Mintcor Realty, Inc.
Avenue Realty, Inc.
Independent Merchants Inc.
Mintcor Finance and Leasing Corp.
Mintcor Insurance Agency Inc.
Mintcor Trading Corp.
Mintcor Management and
Development Corp.
(owns 1/3 of Inquirer shares)*
Westmont Bank
Westmont Investment Corp.
Zipporah Realty holdings, Inc.
Landwest Corporation
Golden Era Holdings, Inc.
EBECOM, Inc.
The Business Daily
Manila Manila Global Weekly Newsmagazine
The Philippine News
Asia Health and Hospital Management, Inc.
EBECOM Holdings, Inc.
Philippine Racing Club, Inc.
Regal Entertainment, Inc.
Westmont Mamburao Beach Resort, Inc.
* When he became finance secretary in 1998, Espiritu was
required to divest himself of his holdings.
In other newspapers, editors unquestioningly accept the rules set by owners and dutifully execute orders
to highlight or kill a story. Sometimes no rules are ever laid down, but there is an unspoken understanding
that critical stories about the owners and their friends and allies will be toned down, buried in the inside
pages, or not printed at all. That seems to be the case with newspapers like the Philippine Star or Malaya.
Proprietorial meddling is open-ended and outcomes can vary. Some newsrooms are like marketplaces,
where bargaining between journalists and owners occurs, and where journalistic principles are often
compromised, but sometimes also prevail.

This situation is explained in part by the way the Philippine press has developed. The foundations of
modern-day newspapering in the country were laid in the beginning of the 20th century by American
colonizers who introduced American notions of a commercially run, profit-oriented press, brought in
modern printing technology, and schooled a generation of Filipino journalists in U.S.-style reporting. By
the 1920s, newspapering was becoming a profitable business, with the expansion of the market for
subscribers as well as advertising directed to that market. The most important U.S. innovation in the press
field, wrote historian Lewis Gleeck, took place in the first decades of this century: “the conversion of
Filipino journalist of opinion run by politicians into newspapers run as business enterprises.”

The pioneer of this trend was the Spanish mestizo Alejandro Roces, who founded a chain of newspapers.
Like him, other Filipino press proprietors modeled themselves after William Randolph Hearst, the U.S.
press tycoon, and used the same editorial, advertising and circulation policies to build their publications.
At the same time, politicians were seeing the power of mass-circulation newspapers and were quick to
get into the bandwagon. Manuel Quezon, then a senator, persuaded his millionaire friends to set up the
Philippines Herald to serve as a mouthpiece for his political faction. The Herald introduced Philippine big
business into the field of journalism. In the 1930s, the wealthy Elizalde family, which had helped bankroll
the Herald, acquired other newspapers to form the El Debate-Mabuhay-Herald-Monday Mail (DHMM)
chain. In 1938, on by then President Quezon’s suggestion, the chain was leased to J. Amado Araneta, a
sugar baron who needed a voice to lobby for a bigger U.S. market for sugar. When Araneta died, the
DHMM chain was turned over to the Madrigal shipping family.

In 1947, another sugar baron, Eugenio Lopez Sr., bought The Manila Chronicle to help boost his efforts to
get congressional action on behalf of sugar planters. Lopez hired some of the country’s leading crusading
journalists to work for the paper. The Chronicle’s nationalist writers like I.P. Soliongco and Renato
Constantino were at the forefront of the campaign for the Filipinization of businesses, many of which
remained in U.S. hands despite Philippine independence in 1945. The Lopezes were, not coincidentally,
among the beneficiaries of the transfer of business ownership to Filipinos.

Veteran journalist Luis R. Mauricio remembers the late 1950s, when the Lopezes were still in the good
graces of the Quirino administration. At that time, Mauricio was news editor of the Chronicle and was
under pressure from Eugenio Sr. not to highlight anti-Quirino stories. When he refused, he was offered a
position as lawyer for one of the Lopez firms. “I knew what the offer meant,” Mauricio recalled in a recent
column for Today. “There was no doubt: Don Eugenio wanted me eased out of the Chronicle. Instead of
waiting to be fired, I resigned.”

The Lopezes were also behind the campaign to undermine the presidency of Ferdinand Marcos, a former
Lopez ally who, by the late 1960s, had become the family’s most bitter rival. Until it was closed by martial
law, the Chronicle was at the lead of the press pack that was stridently critical of Marcos.

FOR MOST OF THE POST-

war period, newspapering was firmly in the hands of big
businesspeople who were not shy about using their newspapers to
push for legislative and policy changes, put down their rivals and
promote their allies. Without much compunction, they used their
publications to lash out against their enemies and fight their
crusades. The press-cum-business barons were the biggest
beneficiaries of the free press guaranteed by the 1935 U.S.-style
constitution and the freewheeling, private enterprise-based press system that was the American legacy.

Marcos knew the power of the press and so ordered the closure of newspapers when he declared martial
law in 1972. When he allowed newspapers to open a few months later, these were put under strict
government supervision and owned by either his kin or cronies. All through martial law, the Marcos-
controlled press remained pliant and obedient to the regime. At the same time, it was also used to
promote the varied business concerns of newspaper owners.

AFTER MARCOS fell, the media situation soon resembled that of the 1960s. The economics of
newspapering for a mass market meant that media ownership would be limited to a small elite. Setting up
big presses, a large marketing, distribution and business staff, and a network of professional journalists
entails tremendous capital outlays that only big business can mobilize.

Business Holdings of the Gokongwei Family

HOLDING FIRMS BANKING AND FINANCE

JG Summit Holdings, Inc. Far East Bank and Trust Co.
Sterling Holdings and Security Group Robinson’s Savings Bank
Unicon Insurance Brokers Corp.
MANUFACTURING
Universal Consolidated Corporation REAL ESTATE
Cambridge Electronic Corp. Adia Development & Management Corp.
Mark Electronic Corp. Robinson’s Land Corp.
Litton Mills, Inc.
Brittania Industrial Corp. HOTEL, RECREATION
Westpoint Industrial Corp. & OTHER SERVICES
Robina Textile Mills Robinson’s Inn, Inc.
Nutritional Dietetics Corp. Terai Industrial Corp.
Universal Robina Corp. Savannah Industrial Corp.
Robichem Premier Printing Co.
Robina Farms JG Summit (Cayman) Ltd.
Universal Corn Products
Continental Milling Co. TELECOMMUNICATIONS
CFC Corp. Digital Telecommunications Inc.
Hunts-URC
Universal Robina Sugar Milling Corp. POWER GENERATION
CFC McVitie First Private Power Corp.
Cagayan Robina Sugar Milling Co.
Southern Negros Development Co. MINING & OIL EXPLORATION
Cebu Pacific Manufacturing Corp. Philex Mining Corporation
JG Summit Petrochemical Corp. Oriental Petroleum and Minerals Corp.

AIRLINE
Cebu Pacific Air

Thus, what started out as journalist-owned, anti-Marcos newspapers like the Inquirer and Malaya were
eventually sold to more established entrepreneurs.

The high cost of putting up a paper in a small and crowded market means only four of the dozen
nationally circulated broadsheets published in Manila make profits. These big papers suck up most of the
advertising revenue while the rest operate at a loss or barely break even, so they have to be subsidized
by their owners’ other companies.
Newspapers are published even if they lose money because their aim is not profit but influence. In a
country where there is intense competition among rival elites for business opportunities subject to
arbitrary and not always impartial state regulation, businesspeople use every weapon in their arsenal to
influence those who run the machinery of government. One of those weapons is a newspaper.

The profile of newspaper ownership has therefore tended to follow the changing face of Philippine
business. In the immediate post-war period, the press lords came from Spanish mestizo families and
landed sugar barons. But since the 1980s, wealthy Chinese-Filipino businessmen have begun acquiring
ownership of newspapers. The trend began in 1984, when banker and shipping line owner Emilio Yap
took over the Bulletin in a series of controversial corporate maneuvers that followed the death of Bulletin
publisher Hans Menzi. In July 1986, Betty Go-Belmonte, who came from a Filipino-Chinese publishing
family, broke away from the Inquirer to set up the Philippine Star, initially with the help of a P2-million
investment from Chinese-Filipino businessman William Gatchalian, who is currently an Estrada ally and
presidential consultant on overseas Filipinos.

In 1988, tycoon John Gokongwei Jr. purchased the Manila Times from the Roces family. In 1991, the
Yuchengcos, a Chinese-Filipino family whose diverse interests include banking, manufacturing and
agribusiness, bought into the Manila Standard, which was set up by the Elizalde family in 1987, but later
sold to the Sorianos in 1989. (The Yuchengcos, however, sold their shares to the Spanish mestizo Razon
family in 1996.)

The ascendancy of Chinese-Filipino entrepreneurs to the heights of publishing parallels their growing
control of important sectors of the Philippine economy. Their control of publishing is not fortuitous: For
these tycoons, owning a newspaper means having legitimacy and political clout. As they compete with
other sections of the business elite, ethnic Chinese entrepreneurs have begun to wield the weapons—the
media included—that have long been in the hands of Spanish mestizo and native elites.

In the past, Chinese-Filipino businesspeople were wary about calling attention to themselves. Such
caution stemmed from a history of persecution and shakedowns by a succession of Filipino governments.
Insecurity about their citizenship status prevented the local ethnic Chinese community from taking an
active and overt political role. But with the repeal of nationalization laws and the large-scale granting of
Filipino citizenship in the 1970s, ethnic Chinese entrepreneurs began to be more confident both about
their business involvements and also their engagement with mainstream Philippine society.

IT IS GENERALLY conceded in media circles that Emilio Yap personifies the interventionist press
proprietor. If newspaper owners were put in a spectrum representing ranges of editorial meddling, Yap
would represent the most interventionist extreme. He runs the paper in a manner that some Bulletin
editors describe as authoritarian. He approves everyday the lineup of stories for the next day’s paper. He
also instructs editors on which stories cannot come out and which stories should be prominently
displayed. “Yap runs the family businesses with an iron hand,” says an editor at the paper. “No dissension
is allowed. It’s always a monologue when he talks in board meetings, no one dares disagree with him.”

Business Interests of Emilio Yap, Manila Bulletin Publishing Corp.

Philippine Trust Co.

US Automotive Co. Inc.
Bataan Shipyard and Engineering Co.
Manila Prince Hotel Inc.
Philippine Dockyard Corp.
Philippine President Lines Inc.
Manila International Port Terminal
Liwayway Publishing Inc.

Yap’s daily interventions at the paper seem to have two objectives: to use the Bulletin as a jump-off point
to social prominence and as a springboard for protecting and advancing his business interests. On the
front pages of the paper, he has tried to project his “philanthropy” and role as leader of the Chinese-
Filipino community. More than self-promotion, the Bulletin has also been used against some of Yap’s
enemies, including former Central Bank governor Jose ‘Jobo’ Fernandez, who turned down a request
from Yap’s Philippine Trust Co. to set up a bank branch in a commercial district in Metro Manila. “Yap
really got mad, so we bannered all the bad reports about Jobo, while the positive stories were never
printed,” recalls an editor.

BUSINESS HOLDINGS OF THE RAZON BUSINESS HOLDINGS OF THE SORIANO

FAMILY FAMILY
(owns 50% of the Standard) (owns 50% of the Standard)

International Container Terminal Services Inc. BANKING & FINANCE

Keppel Philippines Holdings Inc. Asian Bank Corp.
Asia Star Freight Services AB Capital & Investment Corp.
Vietnam Watson Paint Corporation Anscor Consolidated Corp.Provident Insurance
Buenos Aires Container Terminal Services SA Corp.
Engineering Equipment Corp. Anscor Insurance Brokers, Inc.
Exchange Capital Corporation Monarch Insurance Co., Inc.
Pan Globe Cargo Express Inc.
Subic Shipyard & Engineering Corp. AIR TRANSPORT
E. Razon Incorporated A. Soriano Aviation, Inc. Aboitiz Air Transport
Razon International Stevedoring Corp. Corp.
Razon Industries Incorporated
Sureste Realty Corporation TRAVEL & TOURISM
Anscor Travel Corp.
Seven Seas Resorts and Leisure, Inc.
Ten Knots Phil., Inc.

MANUFACTURING
Phelps Dodge Phils., Inc.
Atlas Fertilizer Corp.
Atlas Consolidated Mining & Development Corp.

AGRIBUSINESS
AFC Agribusiness Corp.
AFC Prawn Corp.

SHIPPING & PORT SERVICES

Soriamont Steamship Agencies, Inc.
Mindanao Container Corp.
International Container Terminal Services, Inc.

REAL ESTATE
Anscor Land Management & Development Corp.

In stark contrast to this is the way the Bulletin treats the courts, particularly the Supreme Court. It is the
only paper that highlights appointments to, and retirements from, the high courts, and the only one to run
lengthy defenses of justices accused of wrongdoing. “The courts are the closest to Yap’s heart because
of his many lawsuits,” says an editor. “He is still uncertain about the future of his company and he
believes that the courts will decide his fate.” Part of the uncertainty stems from the still unsettled claims of
Eduardo Cojuangco and of Ferdinand ‘Bongbong’ Marcos Jr. on a significant chunk of Bulletin shares.

For this reason, the Bulletin always toes the line of whichever government is in power. “Whoever comes
into office in Malacañang is assured the Bulletin won’t be a problem,” says an editor. The paper quickly
made a shift from supporting Marcos to endorsing Aquino in 1986. Although Yap supported Miriam
Defensor-Santiago in the 1992 election campaign and used the paper to run daily stories favorable to her,
the Bulletin quickly shifted support to Ramos when he was elected. It has taken a similar stance toward
the new incumbent, Estrada. Thus, except when Yap is lashing out at his enemies, as in the Manila Hotel
bidding, the Bulletin is a profoundly conservative and uncontroversial paper.

Although like Yap, they are ethnic Chinese, the Gokongweis have generally taken a hands-off policy at
the Times. The difference is partly generational: Robina Gokongwei took over the helm of the paper in
1989, when she was only 28 years old, while Yap is now in his 70s. Having graduated from a U.S.
journalism school, Gokongwei also has a better grasp of the liberal notion of the newspaper as watchdog
and part of the Fourth Estate. Her family’s business and political philosophy, however, is essentially
conservative and her wealthy clan has an aversion to controversy.

The Times newsroom is therefore the arena of contention between these conflicting world views, as well
as constant clashes between the family and their liberal-minded and activist editors, who have given the
paper a reputation for being critical and hard-hitting. The editors prevailed in 1995, when the paper was
preparing to run a special report on questionable expenses incurred by the Office of the House Speaker.
When then Speaker Jose de Venecia got wind of the article, he tried to stop its publication, calling the
family patriarch John Gokongwei, his wife and several of his children to ask that the articles not be
published.

The family was divided. John Gokongwei himself did not want to displease the Speaker, who had begun
hinting of past favors. The Gokongwei daughters, however, put up a fight. The editors were also adamant,
fearful that if they gave in to this request, it would open the floodgate to similar demands. In the end, the
editors—and the daughters—won.

They were not as successful last March, when Robina Gokongwei-Pe, apparently on orders from her
father, wrote the front-page apology to Estrada. But Times editor-in-chief Malou Mangahas (who is a
founder of PCIJ, the publisher of this magazine, and a member of its board) sees the editor-proprietor
relationship as a continuing struggle, and considers that with some battles won and some lost, the editors’
odds of winning are fairly even.
EDITORS ARE AT THE FRONTLINE OF THE BATTLE AGAINST
interventionist publishers. Certainly, one reason why the Inquirer has kept its independence is that its
editors have jealously guarded their prerogatives. Moreover, its owners know that the paper is profitable
because it is hard-hitting and that it risks losing its market if it is perceived to be losing its critical edge. At
the same time, the business interests of the Prieto family, which owns two-thirds of the paper, are much
less spread out and less vulnerable to government regulation than the Gokongweis’.

To its credit, the paper has printed stories alleging pollution by a Prieto-owned firm. But it has also been
less than critical of a key stockholder of the paper, former banker and current Finance Secretary Edgardo
Espiritu, who owns about a third of the Inquirer’s shares. When other papers were highlighting charges
made by Senator Sergio Osmeña III against Espiritu during the congressional confirmation hearings, the
Inquirer was noticeably circumspect. Still, despite this, the paper has not exactly handled Espiritu’s boss,
Estrada, with kid gloves. Thus, critics say, the problem with the paper is not owner meddling but a
tendency to shoot from the hip and to sensationalize stories.

The Inquirer’s strength is that it is the country’s biggest paper, and politicians are wary about being
perceived as intervening in its affairs for fear of being accused of muzzling the press. The smaller
newspapers are generally more vulnerable to outside intervention because they have less clout. But the
news pages of even a big paper like the Star, whose circulation ranks third after the Inquirer and the
Bulletin, are sometimes cautious because its main owner, the Go family, is itself wary of making too many
enemies, whether from the private sector or the government. If it is true, though, that the controversial
beer and cigarette tycoon Lucio Tan is a secret shareholder of the paper, then the Star’s defense of Tan
on its editorial and news pages and its generally flattering reporting about the tycoon can be said to be
due to proprietorial intervention.

To be sure, there are other problems hobbling the press: insufficient skills, the pervasiveness of
“checkbook” journalism, intense competition and the lack of editorial supervision. All these combine to
produce sloppy reporting. The generally low pay of journalists and the dearth of logistical support for
thorough research and reporting contribute to the mediocrity of Philippine newspapers.

The structure of newspaper ownership adds to these problems and is partly responsible for the inability of
some newspapers to rise above the interests of their proprietors. The problem is that no clear alternatives
exist as far as ownership is concerned. The history of newspaper cooperatives in the Philippines is one of
failure. In the meantime, press proprietors are not likely to give up control of their papers to allow
journalists and citizens to be shareholders of newspapers.

Legislation that would open up press ownership is a possibility but that has so far not been tried, and it is
unlikely that Congress would make a law that would upset the powerful lords of the press. To begin with,
newspapers should be required to disclose their owners’ interests in companies they are reporting on.
Had it done so in its story on the power deal, perhaps the Times would have been spared later
insinuations that the article’s allegations had more to do with the business interests of its taipan-owner
rather than with solid reporting.

But for now, the only recourse is public vigilance. If readers are made aware of the impact of proprietorial
intervention on what they read and if they demand more from the newspapers they buy, then some of the
problems posed by press ownership may be resolved.