Fake News Is Real But So Is the Bullshit They're Hiding

NOTE: THIS ONE WENT LOUD. TOO LOUD FOR SOME.

One of my viral pieces, this post hit close to 400,000 views, racked up 2,100 shares, and got picked up by several prominent voices online, including Senate candidate Jimmy Bondoc, who I genuinely respect. Apparently, saying the quiet parts out loud (minus the press powder) still gets people’s attention. Posting it here because truth doesn’t last long on timelines. Especially when it’s not cute. Read whenever you're ready (or annoyed enough).

There was something cult-like about the way those lawmakers sat there. Not holy, just creepy. Like priests of a fake religion no one asked for, holding a trial against “fake news” with nothing but microphones, nameplates, and clueless takes about how the internet actually works.

They looked serious, brows tight like they were guarding the truth. But it wasn’t about truth. It never is. It was about control, like it always is.

Most of them had no clue what they were even trying to fix. They dragged in some Dutertirista vloggers, bloggers, influencers, and two poor Afams from Meta, and dead serious asked, “How do we kill misinformation on your platform?” Like it’s a bug you swat after enough committee hearings. Like truth can be fixed with memos and stale coffee.

It would've been funny if it wasn’t so damn scary. Not once did they zero in on the basics: “What even is fake news?” “What counts as misinformation?”

They never asked, “Who decides what’s true?” Because it’s them. And they sure as hell weren’t about to say that out loud.

What’s scary is they’re pretending like we’re not decades past all that. Like this country hasn’t already used “truth” as a weapon to crush anyone who talks back.

Back in the day (and this isn't some Gen X nostalgia trip, this is bone-deep memory) we got our “truth” from AM radio, barbershops, and the Maritesses next door. Tsismis was our algorithm. My lolo and lola tuned in to those gravel-voiced anchors who sounded like they smoked Marlboro reds through their ears. They delivered the news like it was gospel, and we believed them. Mostly 'cause they were angry enough to sound right.

No Google back then. Just your "silingan" who saw a military truck at 2 a.m. and swore Martial Law was making a comeback. No fact-checkers either, just your drunk uncle at the sari-sari, ranting about politics between swigs of Red Horse and fistfuls of mani.

And somehow, even with all that noise, we still had a shared reality. We got fooled, of course, but at least we got fooled together. The lies lined up back then. They were consistent, at least.

Nowadays? My kids are in their late twenties and their truth comes from reels, hot takes, and ring lights. My 7-year-old apo swipes through YouTube faster than I scroll Facebook. All of the kids now probably trust some influencer more than the news, the government... maybe even the church. Truth, for them, is personalized content. Curated belief. The algorithm’s their new god. Their feed knows what they want before they do, and serves it up like it’s fact.

They believe whatever fits their mood. And honestly? Don’t we all?

Nietzsche once said, “There are no facts, only interpretations.” I used to think that was too intellectual for real life. Now it feels like prophecy. What he meant, I think, wasn’t that truth didn’t exist but that it would one day be drowned by noise. By point-of-view. By tribe. And that’s exactly where we are.

We don’t look for THE truth anymore. Just OUR truth. If someone says something that hits, we follow, binge their content, call it gospel. If someone says something we don’t like? We don’t argue. We cancel. Block. Report for “misinformation."

And here’s the bad joke: Congress thinks they can regulate all this. Like they can write laws for reality, same way they write traffic rules. But truth isn’t a rulebook anymore. It’s currency and, sh!t, it’s always trending!

“Fake news” used to mean made-up shit, like: “The Pope endorsed Duterte” or “Leni Robredo got caught in a buy-bust in Cebu.” To Congress, it now just means “I don’t like this.” Disagree with someone? Fake news. Get exposed? Fake news. Drop a fact that stings? Still fake news. Say it enough times and even the truth starts looking suspicious.

And misinformation? That one’s even slipperier. It’s not always some evil mastermind behind a keyboard. Sometimes it’s your boomer grandma forwarding a 2014 post about garlic curing cancer. It’s your co-worker who watched one video about the “deep state” and now thinks WiFi is a mind-control device. Or that neighborhood shabu adik sharing a post about a pusher shot dead by riding in tandem... and suddenly every motorcycle is a death sentence.

But don’t laugh too hard. Most of them aren’t idiots. Just overwhelmed. Just betrayed. Because the real virus isn’t lies... it’s broken trust.

Nobody trusts the mainstream media anymore and why should they? Half of it’s owned by the same billionaires bankrolling elections. Nobody trusts the government either. Not after the pork barrel mess, the vanishing budgets, the PhilHealth heist, the South China Sea which they keep insisting should be called the West Philippine Sea.

So who do people trust now? Sass—the scholar sharing what she’s learned from studying international relations in the Netherlands, still grinding her way through a Master’s, posting on Facebook and Substack. Trixie—a motherly lawyer on TikTok and Facebook, once Duterte’s PCOO. Boldyakan on YouTube and Facebook, bold enough to say what mainstream media’s too scared and compromised (or, well, too bought) to touch. Or even someone in a hoodie yelling in a dashcam. Some auntie with a YouTube channel and a rosary hanging from her ring light. Someone who is real. Who speaks our pain. Our language. Our rage. Even if it’s laced with street level curses, it feels more honest than a government official in silk barong talking about “responsible content.”

And that’s the part no congressman at the hearing dared to say: These voices thrive because the so-called truth-tellers already lost all their credibility.

So what now? Ban posts? Jail vloggers? Stamp every AI generated meme with a government seal of approval? That’s not protecting truth. That’s policing freedom of expression and speech. And when you start punishing ideas, you’re no longer fighting misinformation. You’re just controlling the narrative.

Even if they somehow wiped out fake news, they’d still lose. You can’t regulate belief. And you sure as hell can’t regulate pain or rage.

No law’s gonna fix that. Pass all the anti-fake news bills you want but the second the government starts deciding which opinions are illegal, it’s not about fake news anymore. It’s about shutting people up. That’s the danger. In trying to kill people's opinions, they might kill dissent.

Because here’s what usually gets labeled “misinformation” in this country:

• Calling out government officials.

• Exposing military abuse or corruption.

• Sharing history that doesn’t fit the script.

It’s always political. Always has been. Always will be.

Now, let’s not pretend everything online is worth defending. Some of it’s pure trash. Real, dangerous lies. Lies that stoke hate, spread medical disinfo, push people into cults and echo chambers.

If the government really wants to fight that kind of poison, the answer isn’t censorship. It’s education. Media literacy. Emotional literacy. Allotting budget to teach people to ask: "Is this even credible?" “Who benefits if I believe this?” “What feelings is this post trying to manipulate?”

If they really wanted to help, they’d call in real psychologists, sociologists, and teachers (not someone like Castro, the teacher turned congresswoman who got flagged for child abuse, can’t pronounce genre, fumbled take/took/taken, and called herself Meta's 'victim' when it took down her page for impersonation). Bring in people who actually know how to teach media and emotional literacy. Maybe then these pricey hearings wouldn’t look like what they really are: a witch hunt for Duterterista vloggers and content creators.

But of course, that kind of approach takes years and it’s way too sane, too kind, for their egos wounded and bruised by criticism. They’ve been dragged online and can’t stomach it. So yeah, I’ve got a bad feeling they’ll just keep holding these overpriced circus hearings to soothe their festering pride.

My kids didn’t grow up trusting politicians. They grew up watching me battered, overworked, screwed over by systems that promised the world and gave scraps. They saw their dad spiral into shabu, go quiet when a neighborhood pusher got shot. Brutal, yeah. But to them, that looked like the only thing that worked. That became their truth. They saw the rich live like gods while people around them lined up for ayuda. They learned early: in this country, truth is whatever helps you survive.

And that’s the sickest irony of it all: in a world drowning in info, people aren’t looking for truth. They’re looking for tribe. Your tribe tells you what counts as truth. What feels right. What feels safe.

So, NO! The hearing didn’t bring clarity. But it did show us the real problem: The crisis isn’t fake news or the spread of misinformation. It’s that nobody trusts the mainstream media. Nobody trusts the government. Why would we?

They distract us with expensive hearings while the real shit gets buried: missing funds no one can trace, butchered sovereignty served cold, and Digong being delivered to The Hague on a silver jet. Congress peddle fear of vloggers while corruption rots every department. They stoke hate toward China to look strong, but the rage is empty. Performative. The Filipino people aren’t blind and stupid. We're just tired of being treated like we are.

And in that black hole where trust used to live, the loudest voices win. Doesn’t matter if Congress yells “liar” till their lungs give out. If the message comes wrapped in enough rage and repetition, people relate. Especially when it echoes the anger they already carry, the one aimed at this whole rotten machine.

And truth? Truth’s old. Tired. Smells like sweat and secondhand smoke. But once in a while, it trends. Goes viral.

Poor, Congressmen and Congresswomen... they still can't accept that Pinoys don’t need their permission to wake the hell up.

—Kooks de Leon., Open Journal, April 9, 2025, Thoughts from the sidelines of the Tricom circus. | Current mood: Disgusted. Mildly entertained. Fully done.