26-3-2025 (MANILA) Crafting laws to curb the spread of online disinformation while safeguarding free speech is akin to navigating a perilous high wire, according to a leading expert. Grace Salonga, a lawyer and the executive director of the Movement Against Disinformation, describes it as a fragile equilibrium that teeters on the edge as legislators in the Philippines explore new legal frameworks.
Salonga emphasises that any regulation must strike a precise chord: it can bolster the integrity of public information, but only if citizens trust the authorities to wield it justly. Should that trust falter, the risk of misuse looms large, potentially stifling even legitimate, fact-based dissent. “When you hand the government a law, you’re entrusting them with power,” she remarked in an interview with Philstar.com. “That power must come with crystal-clear boundaries.”
The Philippines already has tools like the Cybercrime Prevention Act of 2012, which tackles online libel and slander—offences rooted in spreading false, harmful statements. Yet, these measures have often been turned against journalists, sparking outrage among champions of press freedom. Salonga advocates for decriminalisation, arguing that journalists and the public should express themselves without the shadow of prison sentences hanging over them.
Disinformation, however, presents a thornier challenge. Unlike defamation, it doesn’t always target individuals but seeks to warp public perception with deliberate falsehoods. Salonga calls this a “technical snag” in tackling fake news. “The problem is glaringly real—we encounter it daily,” she asserts, pointing to the lack of a clear legal definition despite its obvious impact.
Veteran journalist Ellen Tordesillas, speaking on DZRH News on March 23, drew a sharp line between opinion and fact. “You can have your own views, but not your own truths,” she insisted, adding in a House hearing the previous day that opinions resting on shaky facts are fair game for scrutiny. This distinction matters, as influencers and vloggers often cloak harmful disinformation as mere personal takes, a defence lawmakers have flagged as flimsy when it fuels misleading narratives.
Salonga argues for a tailored law that pins down what constitutes false information with no wiggle room for interpretation. “As a lawyer, I see the struggle when there’s no solid legislation to shield victims of fake news peddlers,” she explains. Such a law, she believes, would not only clarify punishable acts but also deter those sowing discord—like troll farms, shadowy outfits that mimic real voices to manipulate and inflame public opinion. She urges lawmakers to outlaw these operations explicitly.
Social media giants, too, must face accountability, Salonga insists. Under the Cybercrime Prevention Act, they’re deemed service providers with some liability, yet the law stops short of holding them directly responsible. She proposes hefty fines—rather than jail time—as a practical penalty. “If fake news lingers on your platform after a warning, you should answer for it,” she suggests.
Still, Salonga warns that legislation alone won’t suffice. Media literacy, woven into education and customised for diverse audiences, is vital to equip people to sift truth from lies. She advises lawmakers to seek a balanced path, engaging all voices in genuine dialogue rather than imposing a heavy-handed fix. “It’s about finding that sweet spot,” she says, cautioning against a top-down approach that risks alienating the very public it aims to protect.
As the legislative probe into disinformation unfolds, the stakes remain high. Salonga sees potential in regulation but stresses its success hinges on who holds the reins—and how tightly they pull. Without clarity and trust, even the best-intended laws could tip the scales toward censorship, a peril seen in nations like Russia and China, where similar rules have muzzled independent voices. For now, the Philippines stands at a crossroads, seeking a way to tame falsehoods without shackling freedom.
