Pahayag ng PCIJ ukol sa “Oust-Duterte plot” na ulat ng Manila Times,  22 April 2019

ANG “association matrix” at ulat ng Manila Times ukol sa mga journalist, kasama ang mga taga-PCIJ, na di-umano’y sangkot sa “oust-Duterte” plot, ay mali sa maraming dahilan:

1. Wala ni isa mang email na natanggap ang PCIJ mula kay Ms Ellen Tordesillas ukol sa sinasabing “narcolist video” ni “Bikoy.” Wala rin ni isang report o komentaryo ukol sa “narcolist video” ni “Bikoy” ang isinulat o inilathala ng PCIJ. Ang video ay nasa YouTube kung saan ito’y napanaood ng news media at ng taumbayan. Ito dapat ang silipin ng mga sinasabing “cybercrime experts” at ‘di pinangalanang “highly placed source in the Office of the President.”
2. Tahasang inamin sa report ng Manila Timesna posibleng may paglabag sa batas na naganap. Malinaw na inamin sa report na ang mga ekspertong ito na diumano’y katulong ng Office of the President ang nanghimasok sa privacy ng mga email at correspondence ng mga reporter na nabanggit.
3. Mali ang pag-uugnay ng “matrix” ng limang tao na wala nang kaugnayan sa PCIJ.Tatlo sa lima ay nag-resign na mula Marso 2018 hanggang Enero 2019. Ang dalawa pa, si OtsoDiretso candidate for senator Atty. Jose Manuel Diokno at si Summit Media publisher Lisa Gokongwei-Cheng, ay hindi na kasapi ng PCIJ Board of Editors. Nag-resign si Diokno bago pa man magsimula ang kampanya.
4. Ang PCIJ, isang a non-stock, not-for-profit independent media organization, ay nangangalap ng pondo sa iba’t-ibang paraan– kita mula sa pagbenta ng mga publications at video, kontribusyon mula sa PCIJ patrons, interest income mula sa endowment fund na ibinigay ng Ford Foundation nuong 2003, at project grants mula sa mga lokal at dayuhang ahensiya.
   Ang foreign funding ay hindi katulad ng foreign ownership ng mga for-profit media. Ang totoo’y mga ahensiya ng gobyerno nakakukuha ng pinamalalaking parte ng foreign funding mula sa Estados Unidos, Japan, China, Australia, at iba pang multilateral and bilateral agencies.
   Halimbawa, mula 2017 ang People’s Television (PTV-4) at Presidential Communication Operations Office (PCOO) mismo ay nakatanggap mula sa state-run media agencies ng China ng mga donasyon ng digital radio at ibang broadcast equipment; naghatid sa China mga journalist at columnist, kasama ang ilan mula sa Manila Times, sa ilalim ng isang “professional exchange program”; nag-dub at re-broadcast ng mga TV programs mula China; at ngayo’y pinag-aaral ang mga tauhan ng PCOO ng Chinese language. 
5. Si Mr Rigoberto Tiglao, isa sa mga co-founder at unang treasurer ng PCIJ, ay tumulong mangalap ng seed money para sa PCIJ mula sa Asia Foundation at Ford Foundation.Minsan nang nagpahayag si Mr.Tiglao ukol sa PCIJ sa isyu ng Nieman Reports: “The PCIJ has helped change Philippine journalism… It’s a success story of an NGO, non-governmental organization, committed to a specific cause and funded by both foreign and local development agencies.”
   Paulit-ulit nang ipinahayag ng PCIJ simula 2014 na ang National Endowment for Democracy ay nagbibigay ng pondo para sa mga training seminar-workshops. Daan-daang reporter at editor ng national at regional print, TV, radio, at online media ang nakalahok na sa mga seminar na ito, kabilang ang halos isang dosena mula sa Manila Times.
6. Simula 2005 at sa marami pang okasyon, inilahad na ng PCIJ ang mga detalye tungkol sa kanyang funding structure. Basahin sa  https://pcij.org/patron/
   About the PCIJ: Who we are · Writing fellowships · Investigative reports · Be a PCIJ patron · Awards and Citations
   “The PCIJ is funded in various ways. Funds come from revenues from the sale of publications and videos as well as contributions from PCIJ Patrons (who donate P3,000 to P10,000 each a year and get PCIJ products in return). The PCIJ also makes money by conducting journalism training in the Philippines and other countries. 
   “Revenue also comes from the proceeds of an Endowment Fund whose seed money was donated by the Ford Foundation (the rest was contributed by PCIJ revenues). That donation came with few conditions, only that the money be properly managed and used only to fund PCIJ operations.
   “The remaining funds for our budget consists of grants for special projects.
   “The PCIJ is unique — and not only because of its special focus on investigative reporting. No other media organization in the Philippines is funded in a similar way: a combination of grants, revenues, and contributions from individual supporters. 
   “Our funding structure allows us to be independent because we are beholden neither to media owners nor to advertisers nor even to grant-giving organizations (the diversity of our funding base allows us to choose the projects we want to do with donors and to set our own terms with them). We are, however, accountable to our board and ultimately, to our readers.”
7. Sa huli, at pinakamahalaga sa lahat: Ang malaya, walang takot, at mapanuring press ay sagisag ng demokrasya. Ang press na tiklop-tuhod sa harap ng kapangyarihan, at umiiwas na magbigay ng sapat na impormasyon sa mga mamamayan ukol sa mga mahahalagang usaping bayan, ay pagkutya sa kanyang kabuluhan. — PCIJ, 22 Abril 2019

IN DECEMBER 2018, Myanmar’s Minister for Information Pe Myint gave lie to global reports that offered a grim prognosis of press freedom in the former pariah state.

Speaking before an audience of journalists, dignitaries, and civil-society representatives, he said that press-freedom indexes are biased and that the freedom- and rights-ranking mechanisms of international organizations are not transparent enough.
He also said that state-owned newspapers play an essential role in bridging the divide between the state and the public, adding that they will continue to exist regardless of the government in power.

The minister — a writer himself — then said that journalists, as an act of civic duty, must be faithful to their country, and should not forget their responsibility to protect and love it.

The speech had been given at the Seventh Media Development Conference in Nay Pyi Taw. The annual event brings together private and state-owned news outlets, public officials, academics, civil society, diplomats, and international organizations, to tackle issues affecting the media in Myanmar. In previous years, it had always taken place in the old capital, Yangon.

That it was now being held in the seat of the government and had the information minister giving an adversarial yet not unusual speech were not lost on the conference’s audience. In fact, most of them took the minister’s words as a sign that state expects even the private media to push the official narratives.

Shortly after the gathering, independent local media groups issued a joint statement denouncing his pronouncements, which they also said were irrelevant to media development in Myanmar.

Yet it was not as if they had expected to hear anything different anymore from an official of the Myanmar government, which now has Nobel laureate Aung San Suu Kyi as de facto leader.

“Media freedom is clearly not one of (its) priorities,” said the Paris-based Reporters Without Borders (RSF), which monitors freedom of information and press freedom across the globe. This is even though Daw Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy (NLD), the current ruling party, had press freedom among its targets for reform in its election manifesto.

In RSF’s latest World Press Freedom Index released in mid-April, Myanmar is ranked a notch lower (138th) than the previous year. Although it slid by just one rank, Myanmar had actually suffered a steep drop in the index in 2018, when it fell six places to 137 out of 180 countries.

This was apparently because of the December 2017 police entrapment and arrest of Reuters reporters Ko Wa Lone and Ko Kyaw Soe Oo who were then working on a story on the brutal military crackdown on Myanmar’s Rohingya Muslim minority. In September 2018, both journalists were convicted under the Official Secrets Act – just one of Myanmar’s draconian legislation stifling media freedom and free expression. Each received a sentence of seven years in prison with hard labour.

Legal and media groups quickly issued a statement that pointed out how the sentence meted out to the reporters was essentially a gag on the press and an act denying the public’s right to information.

It also said, “The most important fact is that there would be no such reporting unless the massacre (of the Rohingya) happened. The fact that Myanmar has lost its reputation among the countries of the world is not because of their reporting, but because the massacre was committed.”

This was far from what the people of Myanmar — and the rest of the world — had imagined for this country of 54 million when Daw Suu Kyi won a Parliament seat in 2012, marking a historic turn in the nation’s political history, and when the 2015 elections made the NLD Myanmar’s governing party.

But here now is the reality: Under the administration of NLD, several lawsuits have been filed against members of the media, with some even being arrested and detained. For example, in 2016, Yangon’s regional government sued Eleven Media Group chief executive as well as its chief editor for defamation under the notorious article 66(D) of the Telecommunication Law. This stemmed from EMG’s publication of a commentary on Yangon Region Chief Minister suggesting corruption. The EMG executives spent nearly 10 weeks in prison and trial is still ongoing. There have been other arrests of EMG journalists and editors as well, over reports of allegations of corruption involving pubic officials.

In June 2017 the military, again using article 66 (D) of the Telecommunication Law, sued the chief editor and a columnist of The Voice Daily for a satirical piece on the government’s peace efforts with minority ethnic groups. The columnist was later released after two weeks, but both men found themselves facing fresh charges, this time under article 25(B) of the Media Law.

That same year three journalists from independent news outfits Irrawaddy and Democratic Voice of Burma were arrested by the military at a checkpoint after coming back from an ethnic armed group-controlled area and charged under the Unlawful Association Act — a colonial-era law. The junta dropped the case after the journalists spent 10 weeks in prison in northern Shan State.

The list goes on.

Aung San Suu Kyi’s silence in the face of this unrelenting repression of the media has baffled many. She has barely said anything as well about the plight of the Rohingya, most of whom are now either dead or in forced exile.

At the World Economic Forum in Hanoi in September 2018, she finally spoke up about the two incarcerated Reuters reporters, but only because she had been asked directly about them.
Her reply was brief: “The court has decided that they (the two journalists) have broken the Official Secrets Act.”

To many, her answer smacked of total denial of the injustice heaped not only on Wa Lone and Kyaw Soe Oo, but on other Myanmar journalists who are being made to suffer for doing their job.

Three months later in Nay Pyi Taw, her Information Minister would also stand before an audience and utter words that would only show how little importance Myanmar’s current government gives to press freedom. — Southeast Asian Press Alliance (SEAPA)

SHORTLY AFTER Malaysia’s historic 9 May 2018 elections, a new feeling of freedom had swept across the country, and even the most jaded of journalists were giddy with excitement. The poll results, after all, had brought the first change of government in the country since Independence in 1957. The previous administration had also increasingly tightened the informal controls over reporting, particularly in relation to financial scandals dogging then Prime Minister Najib Razak. The victory of the Pakatan Harapan coalition in the elections had thus elicited a literal round of applause among members of the media, indicative of the relief journalists felt.

These days, however, much of that euphoria has dissipated. Malaysia’s freedom of expression regime is in limbo, caught between Pakatan Harapan (PH) coalition’s promises made prior to the elections and the reality of a government attempting to consolidate its grip on power. It also now appears that every step forward is being met with resistance not only from bureaucrats, but also from politicians in the centre of power. As a result, the coalition government has underdelivered on expectations, and has even been showing a disconcerting lack of commitment to the human-rights principles it had pledged to uphold.

For sure, Pakatan Harapan’s election manifesto had made many Malaysians hope that long-awaited reforms would finally begin to happen. The manifesto had been built around five pillars, with each having a variety of promises.

Some of PH’s key commitments can be found in the second pillar, Institutional and Legal Reform. In the 14th promise under that pillar, the manifesto had pledged to “revise” the Official Secrets Act and to enact a Freedom of Information Act (FOIA), as part of a package of measures to combat corruption.

Under the same pillar, in Promise 26 (“Make our human-rights record respected by the world”), the coalition promised to ratify existing human-rights treaties. While no specific mention was made of media freedom and related rights, such ratification would improve the tools available for all human rights defenders, including those working on media freedom.

In promise 27 (“Abolish oppressive laws”), again in the same pillar, the coalition promised to revoke the Sedition Act and the Printing Presses and Publications Act, both of which have curtailed the freedom of journalists and been used repeatedly against members of the media.

Promises to loosen grip on media

There was also a promise to repeal “draconian provisions” in the Communications and Multimedia Act, though there was no commitment here to the necessary wholesale reform that would make the broadcast media independent of government. The promise, however, went on to say: “The Pakatan Harapan Government will ensure that media has the freedom to check and balance our administration. We will review all laws and regulations related to the media so that media freedom is guaranteed. We will also take steps to improve the independence and professionalism of entities such as Radio Television Malaysia (RTM) and BERNAMA.”

It continued, “The Pakatan Harapan Government will also set up a Media Council, comprising its media figures, which will be responsible to develop and implement a code of ethics on reporting and function as a hisbah (accountability) body for public complaints.”

Under Pillar Five, creating an inclusive and moderate Malaysia, promise 50 (restoring the independence and authority of public universities) included a guarantee to improve “freedom of speech and association” through better laws. In promise 60, on promoting Malaysia’s international role, the first commitment was to taking a leading role in the Open Government Partnership, which requires the passage of a FOIA.

Since taking office, however, the PH government led by Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad has made slow progress on most of these promises. This is despite progressive appointments, such as to the office of Attorney-General and in the Election Commission.

Few changes, mounting problems

By the end of 2018, there were few institutional and legal reforms that had been put in place. Problems for the government to date include managing a civil service that is at times uncooperative, to the point of occasionally being seen to sabotage reform; a lack of openness; an ambivalent attitude towards election promises; and the dilution of the spirit of reform through the influence of defecting opposition politicians and inter-coalition manoeuvring.

What has happened to the colonial-era Sedition Act is illustrative of what has gone wrong with the coalition’s promises. Previous administrations – including those that had been led by Mahathir, who came out of retirement apparently out of sheer frustration over the Najib administration – had used the Act to rein in dissent, resulting in activists and opposition politicians alike to be thrown behind bars. While it includes prohibitions against inciting hatred between different races and religions, it also bans questions on the privileges enjoyed by ethnic Malays and natives of Sabah and Sarawak.

The Sedition Act is a broadly worded law that criminalizes a “seditious tendency” and includes speech and/ or actions that “bring into hatred or contempt or excites disaffection against” groups and institutions, again defined very broadly. Phil Robertson, deputy Asia director at Human Rights Watch, has described the law as “totally inconsistent with international free speech standards, which recognize the right to criticize all government officials”.

While PH was on the campaign trail, the Sedition Act had topped its list of repressive laws that needed to be revoked. Once in power, however, the coalition took until October 2018 to impose a moratorium on the Act. Yet just a few weeks later, in the beginning of December, the moratorium was lifted in response to religiously-inflected violence. The rationale given for the move was to contain the violence, yet subsequent investigations under the Sedition Act have targeted human-rights defenders as well. The Home Minister has even been talking about the Act possibly being amended, rather than repealed.
Misunderstanding or deliberately missing goals?

The PH government has also not shown a commitment to the principle of media independence, particularly in relation to the state broadcaster. A clear example was the Minister for Communications and Multimedia’s announcement that the national broadcaster, RTM, would be “allowed” to cover opposition politicians. This was a failure on the part of the PH administration to recognize reform is needed so that it is not in the government’s power to allow or disallow a broadcaster to cover any individual or event. Rather, the government should be guaranteeing the independence of the broadcaster and saying that any decisions on covering politicians would remain in the hands of journalists.

Government ministers have been issuing messages contradictory to the coalition’s official stances as well. For example, despite the coalition’s stated commitment to freedom of information, tackling corruption, and increased transparency, the Prime Minister has said that the draconian Official Secrets Act is an integral support for the government, and that its repeal would make it impossible to govern the country. A Deputy Minister in the Prime Minister’s Department has also justified the use of the Act to keep secret a report prepared by the Council of Eminent Persons (formed after the election victory to advise the prime minister on reforms and the implementation of the manifesto promises). While there is a place for legislation that spells out penalties for sharing state secrets, the underlying principle of a right to information is difficult to reconcile with the broad definitions in the Official Secrets Act as it currently stands.

All these indicate either an unwillingness by the now-ruling coalition to keep the election promises made in its Manifesto, or a lack of understanding of the concepts of media freedom and human rights. Indeed, by the end of 2018, the only significant reform in terms of media freedom has been the repeal of the Anti-Fake News Act. Then again, the repeal has been postponed by the Upper House (creating a precedent); even once it is passed, it just returns the situation to the pre-election status quo. Pushed through in the final Parliamentary sitting before the May 2018 polls, the Anti-Fake News Act has been used primarily by businesses to prevent legitimate competition. In terms of legislation pertaining to media freedom and freedom of expression, there has been no reform to date.

In the meantime, one emerging troubling trend has been the victimization of already marginalized groups, particularly indigenous peoples and those identifying as LGBTIQ. While there were no promises specifically directed at these groups, the general commitment to uphold human rights should be seen as applying to all people, with special provisions to protect those who are marginalized, rather than protecting just the rights of the majority. Unfortunately, the reverse seems to be the case.

Spot check of relevant cases

CIJ did not undertake regular monitoring of media freedom violations across the period, so the following are indicative of the trends identified above, rather than an exhaustive list of all existing and new cases or developments.

Legislation: Anti-Fake News Act
While the Anti-Fake News Act was repealed by the Lower House, it was blocked by the Upper House (the Dewan Negara). The bill to repeal the Act will come into force in 12 months’ time.

New cases:Extra-legal censorship

Pang Khee Teik/ Nisha Ayub Portraits
In August 2018, organizers of an art exhibition were requested by a Federal Minister to remove portraits of LGBT activist Pang Khee Teik and trans advocate Nisha Ayub. The portraits were removed, even though there was no legal reason for this to have been ordered or done.

Sedition Act
While nobody was charged under the Sedition Act in 2018, a number of people have been investigated under this controversial legislation, despite the PH government’s promises to repeal the Act. Cases this year included:

Fadiah Nadwa Fikri
In July 2018, human-rights activist Fadiah Nadwa Fikri was questioned by police under the Act, in relation at an article that she wrote questioning the role of the monarchy in Malaysia.

Azman Noor Adam
In October, Azman Noor Adam was arrested and investigated under the Sedition Act, for remarks made about the Prime Minister. Azman was released eventually, but the move was framed as being a “magnanimous” choice by Mahathir, rather than because the arrest and investigation was a violation of fundamental freedoms.

‘Papagomo’
On November 29, prior to the announced lifting of the moratorium on the Sedition Act, opposition UMNO Youth member Wan Muhammad Azri – better known as ‘Papagomo’ — was arrested and investigated under the Act, for allegedly making racist remarks after violence broke out at the Sri Maha Devasthanam temple in Selangor.

Four unnamed persons
On 2 December, the police said that they had opened four investigations into comments made on social media following the violence at the temple in Selangor.

Unity and Social Wellbeing Minister P. Waytha Moorthy
On 4 December, the Inspector-General of Police announced that they were investigating a Minister under the Sedition Act, following the Selangor temple incident.

Sevan Doraisamy
The executive director of the human rights organization Suaram, Sevan Doraisamy was investigated on 5 December under the Sedition Act, for organizing a solidarity rally for activist Fadiah Nadwa Fikri, who had been arrested. Sevan’s investigation came just two days after Communications and Multimedia Minister Gobind Singh Deo announced that the Cabinet had lifted the moratorium on the Sedition Act.

Communications and Multimedia Act

Shamsiah Samsuddin
In March 2018, homemaker Shamsiah Samsuddin was handed an eight-month jail sentence for insulting Yang di-Pertuan Agong (King) Sultan Muhammad V on Facebook under s 233 CMA.

Asheeq Ali Sethi Alivi
In August 2018, youth activist Asheeq Ali Sethi Alivi was investigated under s 233 CMA and the Sedition Act over a speech given in support of Fadiah Nakwa Fikri, which allegedly insulted the Agong. His handphone and SIM card were seized by the police.

Mohd Hannan Ibrahim
The fish distributor was convicted of making insulting remarks on social media about two police officers who died in the course of their work. He was sentenced to six months in jail in October.

Ongoing cases

S. Arutchelvan and Eric Paulsen
On 15 August 2018, the public prosecutor dropped two separate sedition cases against human-rights and Parti Sosialis Malaysia activist S. Arutchelvan (popularly known as Arul) and human-rights lawyer Eric Paulsen. Arul had been charged after he labelled Anwar Ibrahim’s sodomy trial as “politically motivated”. Paulsen’s charges related to a tweet that accused the Islamic Affairs Department of promoting extremism. On the same day, a charge against Arul over a Facebook post, under the Communications and Multimedia Act, was also dropped.

Steven Gan and Premesh Chandran
The Attorney-General’s Chambers dropped charges under the Communication and Multimedia Act against the Malaysiakini.com Editor in Chief Steven Gan and Chief Executive Officer Premesh Chandran. The two were being charged with uploading a video with the intention of “upsetting” others. The video was a call by a former UMNO member of parliament calling for the resignation of then Attorney General Mohamed Apandi Ali.

Fahmi Reza
In November, cartoonist Fahmi Reza’s sentence under the Sedition Act was upheld. While the sentence was reduced, Fahmi’s lawyer confirmed that the Attorney-General’s Chambers intended to appeal the reduced sentence.

Tian Chua
On 23 November, former Member of Parliament Chua Tian Chang (known as Tian Chua) had a sedition conviction –based on a political speech given five years earlier — overturned.

Ahmad Muhaiman Mohd Muhayeddin
Charged under the Communications and Multimedia Act, following a posting that showed then-Prime Minister Najib Razak behind bars, Ahmad Muhaiman Mohd Muhayeddin had his charge dropped on 30 November. The deputy public prosecutor said they were no longer interested in pursuing the case.

Zunar
Political cartoonist Zulkifli Anwar Haque, popularly known as Zunar, had nine charges against him, under the Sedition Act, dropped in July. The cases all referred to Twitter comments regarding the jailing of then opposition politician Anwar Ibrahim. – Southeast Asian Press Alliance (SEAPA), May 2019

IN APRIL 2018, during its last Parliamentary sitting as Government, the Barisan Nasional rushed through a law designed, according to its supporters, to curb the spread of “fake news:” the Anti-Fake News Act.

As initially presented to Parliament, the bill encompassed anyone, Malaysian or non-Malaysian, who discussed Malaysia at home or abroad. Those found guilty under the bill faced a fine of up to half a million ringgit (USD 121,000) and up to 10 years in prison. The penalties were eventually watered down, but they still remained severe, with up to six years in prison, and fines that could accumulate over time.

Malaysia, of course, is not the only country where lawmakers have been trying to find a way to combat so-called “fake news.” The problem has been commanding the attention of legislatures elsewhere, such as those in the United Kingdom, Australia, and Singapore.
Just recently, the British government proposed sweeping measures to tackle the problem of “illegal and unacceptable content and activity.” The key concerns cited in the Online Harms White Paper were national security, the safety of children, safeguarding democracy, terrorism, promotion of self-harm and suicide, and promotion of gang culture and violence.

The White Paper is pushing for the regulation of online spaces as the key method of tackling any of these problems — a direction that some observers say threatens free speech. The paper’s supporters, however, have pointed out that it actually draws attention to the importance of freedom of expression; moreover, any regulation will be delegated to an independent regulator, rather than to the executive per se.

By comparison, the Malaysian law offered neither of these features. It also did not spell out the specific harms that it was attempting to address. Instead, what was being offered was a catch-all law that further concentrated power to censor in the executive, while offering no balance in terms of freedom of expression safeguards.

Further, as passed, the Act covered offenses already defined by other legislation, especially the Defamation Act and the Penal Code. The main innovation in the Act was that even without proof offered, sites could be taken down; they would then remain inaccessible until after a court had found the allegedly offending site to be innocent of the crime of spreading of “fake news” (itself poorly defined). Internet intermediaries were responsible for taking down content, or face stiff penalties, which heightened potential self-censorship.

The timing of the Act — the last piece of legislation passed before what was seen to be (and indeed was) a critical general election — also made the law suspect: It gave the impression that its key function was to prevent criticism of the member-parties of the ruling coalition and the financial scandals in which they were implicated.

While the law was not used during the election period, the only person reported to have been convicted under the Act was charged in relation to a video he made that criticized the Malaysian police force, claiming their response time in a particular case had been longer than it had been.

This case in many respects illustrates the pitfalls of the Act. First, it is important that the public feel able to criticize powerful institutions such as the police; the chilling effect of prosecution is real. Second, the person prosecuted pleaded guilty, but did not have legal representation. As in other cases of freedom of expression violations — such as the 19-year-old laborer convicted of insulting royalty in 2016 — those found guilty are disproportionately those who are unable to access legal representation. While high-profile cases, such as the investigation of human-rights activist Fadiah Nadwa Fikri, command column inches, the cases of lesser known Malaysians often reach the public only through short columns, and only after their convictions.

In August 2018, however, Parliament’s lower house or Dewan Rakyat, under the control of the parties who had been in opposition when the Anti-Fake News Act was passed, in turn passed a bill to repeal the Anti-Fake News Act. But then the bill was blocked by the upper house, the Dewan Negara, dominated by senators appointed by the previous administration.
It appears to be the first time that a bill had been blocked by the Dewan Negara, and it sets an interesting precedent, with the upper house acting as a check on the lower. This assertion of independence, however, came at the expense of Malaysians’ freedom of expression. The legislative process now allows for the bill to be either amended at the lower house, which seems unlikely to happen. Otherwise the bill will become law one year after being defeated in the upper house.

Malaysia urgently needs a model of media regulation based on the confidence that Malaysians can and should enjoy the full range of rights guaranteed in the Federal Constitution, in particular freedom of speech as guaranteed under Article 10. Rather than assuming the need to regulate and control, Malaysia needs a model that asserts the broad scope of human rights, while protecting the vulnerable against crimes such as hate speech. — Southeast Asian Press Alliance (SEAPA), May 2019

IT WAS April Fool’s Day when it was finally tabled for its first reading in Parliament, but the Protection from Online Falsehoods and Manipulation Bill (POFMA) is no laughing matter.

Described by the Asia Internet Coalition as “the most far-reaching legislation of its kind to date,” the Bill will allow any government minister to issue directives for content be removed, corrections issued, or even for internet service providers to block access. This can apply to any material that is available over the Internet to at least one end-user in Singapore.

Anti-fake news legislation has been on the cards for Singapore for quite some time.
(People’s Action Party) PAP ministers first brought up the possibility in 2017, and in 2018 Parliament convened the Select Committee on Deliberate Online Falsehoods to solicit feedback from the public and other stakeholders before making recommendations to the government. The Select Committee’s report, published in September 2018, was swiftly accepted by the PAP government. The Bill, also commonly referred to as POFMA, is the fruit of this labor.

But the introduction on 1 April 2019 of this Bill — which is practically guaranteed to pass in Parliament, given the ruling PAP’s supermajority — comes amid other crackdowns on online speech. It’s a reality that activists and opposition politicians feel especially keenly.

For instance, it took just a short Facebook post comparing Malaysian judges with their Singaporean counterparts for civil-rights activist Jolovan Wham to see yet another addition to his already long list of investigations and charges. Apart from charges for allegedly organizing illegal assemblies, vandalism, and refusing to sign police statements, Wham is now also waiting on the court to hand him a sentence for scandalizing the judiciary, a type of contempt of court offense. Opposition politician John Tan, who made a Facebook comment on the action taken by authorities on Wham, has ended up being similarly charged and convicted.

Meanwhile, Leong Sze Hian, who was once the head of a local human-rights group, is being personally sued by Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong for sharing an article — later debunked — that claimed that Lee had become a key target in investigations into Malaysia’s controversial 1MDB fund. The fact that Leong had merely shared a link without comment has so far done little to help him. And while Leong is only one of many who shared the article, he seems to be the only one on the receiving end of a lawsuit.

Even social media posts that weren’t originally accessible to the wider public can come under fire, and even when they are made by someone related to Singapore’s higher-ups. When Li Shengwu, the prime minister’s nephew, shared an article summing up an ongoing feud between his father and aunt and their powerful brother, he’d set the post to “friends only.” In his comments accompanying the article, Li mentioned that the Singapore government is “very litigious and has a pliant court system.”

A screenshot of the post later circulated online. The Attorney-General’s Chambers then decided to take action, and Li, an assistant professor of economics at Harvard University, soon found himself embroiled in a contempt of court case.

Li is now effectively exiled from the very country that recognizes his grandfather, Lee Kuan Yew, as a “founding father.” If he returns, he could find himself potentially facing not only a fine, but a custodial sentence.

“One wonders how much state resources have been spent going after myself and my mother?” Li mused — publicly, this time — on Facebook, referring to his own case, as well as a complaint lodged with the Law Society against his mother, lawyer Lee Suet Fern.

Against this backdrop, POFMA is thus likely to be yet another weapon in the PAP government’s arsenal against its critics. It also promises to be a very effective one; while it might be impractical to monitor allonline chatter and issue correction or takedown orders in each and every instance, the legislation is worded broadly enough to give government ministers the option of wielding it selectively against particular targets. The Bill also gives ministers the power to exempt anyone they want from the law, and that has triggered fears that the government itself might not be able to be held to account.— Southeast Asian Press Alliance (SEAPA), May 2019

SINGAPORE’S media industry has long been tightly controlled by the government. This is unlikely to change in 2019; in fact, new legislation is expected that could further curb press freedom and freedom of expression.

In January 2018, Parliament convened a Select Committee on Deliberate Online Falsehoods to hold public consultations and gather feedback on how to deal with “deliberate online falsehoods” or “fake news” before making recommendations to the government. The Select Committee solicited written feedback and also held open hearings.

By September 2018, the Select Committee released a lengthy report with 22 recommendations for the government. These recommendations included the provision of media literacy education, as well as support for “quality journalism.” Also among the recommendations were suggestions to introduce new laws that would tackle the spread of “deliberate online falsehoods.” Although the exact details of such legislation were not specified in the report, the Select Committee made reference to powers that would allow the government to “break the virality” of misinformation within hours, or to defund publications that spread falsehoods.

The government swiftly accepted the Select Committee’s recommendations. Speaking at the Singapore-based regional broadcaster Channel News Asia’s 20th anniversary celebrations on 29 March 2019, Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong announced that a bill would be introduced in Parliament for its first reading on 1 April 2019.

A strong grip on the press and broadcast media

Observers see this as having the potential to curtail free speech in cyberspace. As it is, long-standing laws already allow the government a large degree of influence and control over the mainstream media. The Broadcasting Act, enacted in 1994, for instance, allows the government to regulate broadcasters.

There is also the Newspaper and Printing Presses Act, which requires print publications to obtain an annual license to operate. The Act says as well that the government, as represented by the Minister, “may at any time withdraw the license either permanently or for such period as he thinks fit.” In addition, the Act gives the government the power to appoint the management shareholders of any newspaper company, thus allowing the government to have a say over key staffing decisions within the company and the newsroom. Amendments made in 2002 even state that no person can become a substantial shareholder of a newspaper company without government approval.

These have been possible in large part because the People’s Action Party, commonly known as the PAP, has been in government in Singapore since it first came to power in 1959. The party has long enjoyed a supermajority in Parliament, allowing it to pass laws and amendments — including constitutional amendments — with ease.

The ruling party is currently in the midst of a leadership transition from the third generation (3G) to fourth generation (4G) of party leaders. Lee Hsien Loong, who has been Prime Minister since 2004, has indicated that he intends to step down from the top spot after the next general election, due to be called before 2021. During the PAP’s Central Executive Committee election in 2018, Minister for Finance Heng Swee Keat was appointed the first assistant secretary general of the party, which has been taken as a sign that he could be Lee’s successor.

Given both the ongoing transition and speculation over a snap election, there are concerns that the Lee Hsien Loong administration will clamp down on dissent both offline and online. Recent rulings already point to such a pattern, as do notable cases of investigations and prosecutions.

Gearing up against ‘foreign interference’

Alongside anti-“fake news” legislation, Senior Minister of State for Law Edwin Tong has indicated that the government is considering laws to deal with foreign interference in Singapore’s domestic politics. In response to a question in Parliament, he said: “In the physical world, foreign actors may interfere in our domestic politics through the use of proxies, by funding or donating to politically-involved individuals and organizations, or by taking on key leadership roles in the organizations. Our laws must minimize the possibility of such entities being thus used and manipulated. We must not allow foreign actors to undermine our political sovereignty, nor our ability to make our own choices on how we want to govern our country, and live our lives.”

There is as yet no bill detailing the measures and powers that the government would like to have. But there are concerns that the authorities’ plan to deal with “foreign interference” is yet another way to further curtail rights. After all, the Singapore government has previously used “foreign interference” as a justification to clamp down on civil-society activities. In 2017, for example, the government added regulations to Hong Lim Park — the only space in which Singaporeans can demonstrate without a permit — that banned foreigners from being present during activities, which meant that the annual LGBT rights rally Pink Dot had to be barricaded and attendees ID-checked.

“Foreign interference” was used as a justification as well to deny registration in April 2018 to the parent company of New Naratif, a Southeast Asian multi-media platform founded by Singaporeans Dr. Thum Ping Tjin, Kirsten Han, and Sonny Liew. According to the Accounting and Corporate Regulatory Authority, not only was New Naratif “political” in nature, it was also being funded by the likes of the U.S.-based Open Society Foundation, thus making it “contrary to Singapore’s national interest” to allow the outfit to register as a company in Singapore. In September 2018, an appeal against the decision was rejected.

The case of New Naratif is also significant since local alternative media in Singapore exists solely online. They continue to run into sustainability challenges in terms of fundamental needs such as funding and talent. Numerous outlets — such as Breakfast Network, Inconvenient Questions, SIX-SIX, and The Middle Ground — have started up and shut down over the years amid difficulties in obtaining sufficient funding to keep operations afloat. Government regulation that restricts alternative-media publications from obtaining funding, such as grants or donations, from foreign sources — for reasons of preventing foreign interference — further adds to these platforms’ financial woes.

Counterbalance to mainstream media

But these alternative voices are crucial to Singaporean democracy. The long-term influence and control of PAP rule in Singapore, along with current legislation, have rendered public perception of the mainstream media — both print and broadcast — as “pro-government” (often conflated with being “pro-PAP”, given the local context) and toeing the establishment line. And while documented instances of government influence and pressure on mainstream media newsrooms are unusual, they are not unheard of. In October 2018, Yahoo! Singapore reported that Li Xueying, the former political editor of The Straits Times, had been transferred to the Enterprise desk two months earlier because government officials had been unhappy with some of the paper’s political stories under her watch.

The online alternative media’s experiences with the state’s heavy hand have been more apparent. For example, The Online Citizen, popularly known as TOC, was previously gazetted by the Prime Minister’s Office as a “political association.” Operating since 2006, it is Singapore’s longest-standing online independent media platform and survives on limited advertising revenue, as well as donations and support on platforms like Patreon. The website was eventually de-gazetted, but in February 2018 it was required to register with the Info-Communications Media Development Authority (IMDA). Under this registration, all income must be declared to the IMDA on a monthly basis. In December 2018, the IMDA also required TOC to verify that donations were all coming from Singaporean citizens by collecting full names and national registration identity numbers.

In addition, TOC Chief Editor Terry Xu and contributor Daniel De Costa have been hauled into court. On 4 September 2018, The Online Citizen published a letter to the editor written by a “Willy Sum” (a pseudonym apparently used by De Costa) that made reference to “corruption at the highest echelons” of Singapore’s ruling party and “tampering with the constitution.” IMDA then sent TOC a letter demanding that Xu remove the article within six hours. Xu complied, but IMDA still lodged a police report against him in October 2018, which led the police to search his house and seize his electronic devices.

Xu and De Costa were charged with criminal defamation on 13 December 2018; De Costa also faces an additional charge of unauthorized access to computer material.

Chasing after Wham

It is civil-rights activist Jolovan Wham, however, who is currently the individual most caught in the crosshairs of the Lee Hsien Loong administration. A social worker who has been active in advocating for the rights of migrant workers for over a decade, Wham has been outspoken about the state of civil liberties and political rights in Singapore. He now has a long list of investigations and charges to his name.

In February 2019, Wham was convicted of organizing a public assembly without permit and refusing to sign a police statement. The public assembly in question was an indoor forum on civil disobedience and social movements, in which Hong Kong pro-democracy activist Joshua was a speaker, giving his talk via Skype. The authorities said that, as Wong was a foreigner, Wham should have obtained a permit for the event. Wham was sentenced to a total fine of SGD 3,200 (around USD 2,360). He is currently appealing the conviction and sentence, but has indicated that, if unsuccessful, he would serve a 16-day prison term in lieu of paying the fine.

The Attorney-General Chambers has not yet proceeded with the other charges against Wham, some of which are also for allegedly organizing illegal assemblies. These assemblies include a silent protest on an MRT train, and a candlelight vigil outside the prison the night of an execution. On top of this, the police have opened a new investigation against Wham — again for alleged participation in an illegal assembly—for having taken a photo outside the State Courts that showed him holding a small sign calling for the charges against TOC Chief Editor Xu and letter-writer De Costa to be dropped.

Wham has also been convicted of “scandalizing the judiciary” for a Facebook post. On 27 April 2018, Wham posted a link to an article about a constitutional challenge filed in Malaysia against its Anti-Fake News Act. His comment included the remark that “Malaysian judges are more independent than Singapore’s for cases with political implications” and that it would be “interesting to see” how the case turned out. Wham was charged under Singapore’s Administration of Justice (Protection) Act and convicted in October 2018 of scandalizing the judiciary, a form of contempt of court. Opposition politician John Tan was also charged and convicted for posting on Facebook that, by charging Wham, the Attorney-General’s Chambers had merely proven that Wham was right. Both Wham and Tan were each fined SGD 5,000 (about USD 3,670) on 29 April 2019, and are appealing their sentence and conviction.

A procession of investigations

Other cases have raised concerns as well about the shrinking space for freedom of expression in Singapore. In October 2017, artist Seelan Palay was arrested while performing the piece “32 Years: The Interrogation of a Mirror.” As part of this performance, Palay had walked from Hong Lim Park to the National Gallery, and then to Parliament House, all the while carrying a mirror. He stood outside Parliament House alone in silence. He was arrested by the police and later charged with participating in an illegal procession. He was convicted in October 2018 and fined SGD 2,500 (USD 1,845). He refused to pay the fine, and was thus jailed for two weeks instead.

In November 2018, the tabloid website States Times Review — a website run by a Singaporean in Australia, known to be both critical of the PAP as well as unreliable in terms of accuracy — published an article claiming that Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong had become a key target of Malaysia’s infamous 1MDB investigations. It was also picked up and circulated by The Coverage, a Malaysian website with a similar reputation for playing fast and loose with the facts. The article was then widely shared on social media. Leong Sze Hian, a Singaporean financial advisor and former president of the human-rights NGO Maruah was among those who shared the piece, posting a link to it on his personal Facebook page, but without comment.

The Singapore government was quick to denounce the article. The Monetary Authority of Singapore filed a police report against States Times Review, while IMDA issued a takedown order. The website was later temporarily blocked by the Singaporean authorities after it refused to comply with the order.

In his personal capacity, Prime Minister Lee is now suing Leong for defamation, claiming that the article was “an attack against me personally as well as against the Singapore Government, of which I am the head.” Leong’s attempt to counter-sue Lee for abusing court process was dismissed in March 2019. As of this writing, Leong has indicated that he will be appealing the decision.

Then there is Sangeetha Thanapal, an independent scholar vocal about racism in Singapore. In January 2019, she was investigated by the police during a trip back to the country from Australia, where she is now based. The official scrutiny had to do with a Facebook post she had made with regard to the Hollywood film Crazy Rich Asians, which is set in Singapore. Among other things, Thanapal wrote that Singapore “is a terribly racist country” that had “embarked on a form of eugenics in the 1980s meant to displace its indigenous population and replace it with settler colonial Chinese people.” She was later issued a stern warning by the police, who claimed that the post spread “feelings of ill-will and hostility between races.”

Literal threats against state’s ‘critics’

But Singaporean authorities do not have to go through official routes for citizens to feel under threat just for expressing their views. In September 2018, four Singaporeans — Dr. Thum Ping Tjin, Jolovan Wham, Kirsten Han, and Sonny Liew — met Malaysian Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad alongside Malaysian activist Hishamrudin Rais and Singaporean political exile Tan Wah Piow. After the visit, Thum posted a photo of himself with Mahathir on his Facebook page, and included in the caption that he had urged the newly elected Malaysian prime minister “to take leadership in Southeast Asia for the promotion of democracy, human rights, freedom of expression, and freedom of information.”

At least two members of the Select Committee on Deliberate Online Falsehoods reacted quickly to the post. Seah Kian Peng, a PAP Member of Parliament, said in a Facebook post that the Singaporeans who visited Mahathir had invited him to interfere in Singapore’s domestic affairs. “PJ Thum does not wish Singapore well,” Seah added in his post. Another Committee member, Law and Home Affairs Minister K. Shanmugam, later amplified Seah’s claims in comments to the mainstream press.

Thum, Wham, and Han reported an uptick in online abuse after these remarks. Numerous comments accused the trio of treason and demanded penalties ranging from arrest to detention without trial and even death.

This is the Singapore that exists beneath the façade of a developed, cosmopolitan “Smart Nation” that is open for business. Indeed, while Singaporeans enjoy a high level of online and social media access, there are many levers of control at the government’s disposal. With the incoming legislation against “deliberate online falsehoods,” observers have become even more pessimistic.

Even as means of communication expand and advance, Singaporeans seem doomed to have an ever-shrinking space for press freedom and freedom of expression. — Southeast Asian Press Alliance (SEAPA), May 2019

IN 2018 and early 2019, media freedom and the right to free expression came under sustained pressure in the Kingdom of Cambodia. In the past year, the Royal Government of Cambodia adopted several pieces of new legislation that restrict the right to free expression. These new laws have had a chilling effect on the exercise of freedom of expression and media freedom in Cambodia in 2018-2019. Following a trend that began in 2017, there has also been a surge in criminal charges brought against individuals for critical commentary via social media. The sanctioning and closure of many prominent media outlets in 2017 and 2018 have also significantly altered the media landscape and have dealt a nearly fatal blow to media freedom in Cambodia.

Cambodia’s Constitution includes Article 31 that states: “The Kingdom of Cambodia recognizes and respects human rights as enshrined in the United Nations Charter, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, and all the treaties and conventions related to human rights, women’s rights, and children’s rights.” This includes the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), which guarantees freedom of expression under Article 19, as it states, “Everyone shall have the right to hold opinions without interference.” It also says, “Everyone shall have the right to freedom of expression.” Cambodia’s Constitutional Council interpreted Article 31 to mean that the provisions of the ICCPR are directly applicable in domestic law. Article 41 of the Constitution guarantees freedom of expression and press freedom as well.

Cambodia also has a Press Law (1995) that among others includes Article 1, which assures freedom of the press and freedom of publication, and Article 3, which prohibits pre-publication censorship. Too, under the Press Law, the publication of official information may not be penalized if such publication is fully true or an accurate summary of the truth (Article 4), while no person shall be arrested or subject to criminal charges for the expression of opinions (Article 20).

Despite these constitutional guarantees, Cambodia’s legal framework includes several provisions that impermissibly restrict freedom of expression and press freedom.

Ironically, among these is the Press Law itself, which contains some vague provisions that can be subject to arbitrary interpretation by judicial authorities and restrict freedom of expression of journalists as well as editors and news-outlets owners. For example, the Press Law restricts content that “may cause harm to the national security and political stability” (Article 12) or “affect the good customs of society” (Article 14). These vaguely worded provisions involve heavy fines, and, in the case of Article 12, the possibility of the Ministries of Information and Interior suspending publications for up to 30 days without any recourse to appeal.

In addition, there are the criminal offences of defamation, insult, incitement, publication of commentaries intended to unlawfully coerce judicial authorities and discrediting judicial decisions. Also having provisions that restrict the right to free expression are the Law on Elections of Members of the National Assembly and the Telecommunications Law.

Legalizing controls on free speech and media

Since 1 January 2018, the government has enacted several pieces of legislation, regulations, and policies that have placed additional excessive restrictions on free speech and media freedom.

• Amendments to Articles 42 and 49 of the Constitution, enacted in February 2018,
require political parties and Khmer citizens to “primarily uphold the national interest” and refrain from “conduct[ing] any activities which either directly or indirectly affect the interests of the Kingdom of Cambodia and of Khmer citizens”. These amendments introduce a risk of the legitimate exercise of freedom of expression becoming unconstitutional if deemed “directly or indirectly” to affect the “national interest”.

• In February 2018, the Criminal Code was amended to include a ‘lèse-majesté’ offence, which impermissibly restricts freedom of expression. Article 437-bis criminalizes “any speeches, gestures, scripts/writings, paintings or items that affect the dignity of [the King]”, and carries a prison sentence of up to five years and a fine of up to ten million riels (US$2,500) for individuals. Legal entities face fines of up to 50 million riels (US $12,500), as well as additional sanctions including dissolution, forfeiture of assets, and prohibition of certain activities. In relation to the media, several government officials made statements indicating that media outlets should refrain from re-publishing an insult to the King when covering such a case. In May 2018, Cambodia’s Ministry of Information for instance urged owners of media outlets to refrain from quoting messages, audios, images or videos from any sources that insulted the King.

Within one year after the promulgation of the lèse-majesté amendment to the Criminal Code, two individuals were convicted under the new article 437-bis for allegedly insulting the King on social media. In October 2018, a 70-year-old barber and former Cambodian National Rescue Party (CNRP, the main opposition party) government director for Siem Reap Province, Ban Samphy, was sentenced to one year in prison by the Siem Reap Provincial Court (of which he has to serve seven months), marking the first conviction under the ‘lèse-majesté’ criminal offence. He had been arrested in May 2018 in Siem Reap for allegedly sharing a picture and text on Facebook deemed insulting to the King.
On 9 January 2019, a second individual, Ieng Cholsa, was convicted to three years imprisonment by the Phnom Penh Municipal Court for posting messages and images allegedly criticizing the King on Facebook. He had been arrested in June 2018 in Phnom Penh.

In addition to these two convictions under the lèse-majesté offence, a 50-year-old primary school principal, Kheang Navy, was arrested and placed in pre-trial detention in Kampong Thom Province in May 2018 for allegedly making comments on Facebook about the purported role of the King in CNRP’s dissolution. He was released from pre-trial detention in December 2018. Exiled opposition leader Sam Rainsy was also summoned to appear at the Phnom Penh Municipal Court on 12 July 2018 for questioning due to a Facebook post that allegedly violated the ‘lèse-majesté’ offence.

• In May 2018, the National Election Committee (“NEC”) released a “Code of Conduct for the Media”, outlining media regulations for the coverage of the July 2018 election and which contains provisions that prohibit broad categories of speech. The Code, for instance, prohibited journalists from “broadcasting news leading to confusion and confidence loss in the election”; using “provocative or offensive language that may cause disorder or violence”; and “publishing or broadcasting news that affects national security, political, and social stability” — all without providing specifics or clear definitions and criteria.

• In May 2018, the Ministry of Information, Ministry of Interior, and Ministry of Posts and Telecommunication (MPTC) adopted an Inter-ministerial Regulation on Website and Social Media Control. This regulation or provides for unchecked systematic mass surveillance of online activities. Among other provisions, the prakas empowers the MPTC to shut down websites and social media pages found to be disseminating offending content or “information willing to create turmoil in the society”. The MPTC also requires that all Internet service providers operating in Cambodia “install software programs and equip internet surveillance tools to easily filter and block any social media accounts or pages that run their business activities and/or publicize illegally”.

Readying yet more laws

Several draft laws introduced between 2018 and 2019, as well as announcements regarding future legislative developments, are also poised to have an impact upon the right to free expression and media freedom in Cambodia.

• In January 2018, the Ministry of Information, with the assistance of UNESCO, released a draft Law on Access to Information held by public bodies. While the draft law generally complied with freedom of expression standards and includes protection of whistleblowers, some concerns remained regarding the categories of information deemed confidential and the responsibilities given to the “officer in charge of information”. In February and March 2019, the draft law was reportedly being reviewed by inter-ministerial committees.

• In March 2019, a representative from the Ministry of Interior confirmed relevant ministries were in the process of drafting the anti-cybercrime law, but did not specify the timeline for the finalization of the draft. Such a law has been proposed a number of times since 2012. An informal version of the draft cybercrime law was released in 2014 and widely criticized for its overly broad provisions that would severely restrict the freedom of expression online. A second draft was also informally released in 2015, raising similar concerns.

• In April 2018, a ruling party spokesman announced that the government was looking into drafting a “fake news” law, raising concerns that such laws could be used to silence online criticism towards authorities. In March 2019, the Prime Minister called on relevant ministries to consider drafting an “anti-fake news law”.

Arrested, charged, beaten up

As it is, more and more journalists have found themselves entangled in the country’s legal system. Among the journalists who were arrested and/or charged because of their work in 2018-2019 are:

■ Two former Radio Free Asia (RFA) journalists, Yeang Sothearin and Uon Chhin, who were detained in November 2017 on charges of providing a “foreign state with information which undermines national defence” (Article 445 of the Criminal Code). While no evidence to substantiate the charges has been made public, the period of their pre-trial detention was extended without legitimate grounds. The two were eventually released on bail in September 2018, but the charges against them remain pending. In March 2019, their case was reportedly ready to proceed to trial, although no date has been set.

■ Aun Pheap, a Cambodian journalist, who in March 2018 fled to the United States. He had feared arrest after he was charged with incitement to commit a felony on 28 August 2017, alongside his Canadian colleague. The charges followed their coverage of the 2017 commune elections in Ratanakiri Province while they were working for the Cambodia Daily. They had interviewed former opposition members, some of whom later alleged that the two journalists “incited” them by asking why the people in the commune had previously elected the opposition party.

■ At least three journalists reporting on natural resources issues who were subjected to legal action. In September 2018, two journalists from TNM Online TV were arrested in Pursat Province and sent to the provincial police station for “incitement and broadcasting disinformation” after tycoon Try Pheap filed a complaint. The journalists had filed a news story about Try Pheap’s MDS Company excavating part of a ricefield. Also in September 2018, another journalist from TNM was summoned for questioning in Mondulkiri Provincial Court, over allegations of “defamation” following a complaint by the office head of the Keo Seima Wildlife Sanctuary. The Sanctuary head said that the journalist had wrongly accusing him of colluding with traders to log and haul luxury timber in the protected area.
■ Australian journalist and filmmaker James Ricketson, who on 31 August 2018 was found guilty of espionage and sentenced to six years in prison. Ricketson had been brought in for questioning in June 2017 after being charged with “espionage” and gathering information for a foreign power that could damage national security. Ricketson had actually flown a drone without a permit over an opposition rally. He was released on 21 September 2018 after receiving a royal pardon, and was deported a day later.

As if all these were not enough, journalists in Cambodia have been subjected to violence as well. A survey conducted out by the Cambodian Centre for Independent Media (CCIM) in November 2017 also revealed that 14 percent of journalists reported having been verbally or physically attacked during the past year, while 20 percent reported having been threatened. In January 2019, a journalist from the Cambodia Media Association for Freedom was attacked while taking photos of and covering illegal fishing activities in Siem Reap province. In February 2019, a journalist from BTBP TV Online was even beaten to death in Kratie Province, although it is unclear if his murder was related to his media work.

Unfortunately, cases involving crimes against journalists in Cambodia are often either not investigated at all or investigated without transparency, independence, and impartiality. And when perpetrators are convicted, they often receive a lenient sentence or are released early.

A hostile climate for free expression and free press

All these have had a chilling effect on members of the Cambodian media. Indeed, in CCIM’s November 2017 survey of 75 Cambodian journalists, 67 percent of the respondents said that they did not feel completely free to report on all subjects without fear of interference or repercussions, up from 58 percent in 2015 and 47 percent in 2014.

Journalists should be permitted to do their work, including exposing corruption, criticizing public policies, and shedding light on human rights violations, in an environment that promotes their safety, without fear of negative repercussions. But Cambodia’s dismal media climate in 2017 had only worsened in 2018-2019. One of the serious challenges faced by journalists in Cambodia during this period has been the tightening of legal screws on the media, which only make it all too easy for journalists to be subjected to legal actions as a result of their work.

No wonder then that in the 2018 World Press Freedom Index by Reporters without Borders (RSF), in Cambodia was ranked 142 out of 180 countries — 10 places lower than in 2017. Too, in view of the acute restrictions placed upon media freedom in Cambodia in recent years, Cambodia received nine recommendations during its Third Universal Periodic Review with the UN Human Rights Council, specifically addressing steps Cambodia should take to ensure it respects its international obligations regarding the protection and respect of press freedom.

In order to meaningfully restore an enabling environment for a free and pluralistic media, the government should take concrete steps that should include amending legislation that currently place excessive restrictions on free speech and media freedom. The objective should be to bring it in line with international standards and cease judicial harassment against journalists (including dropping charges against the two former RFA reporters). – Southeast Asian Press Alliance (SEAPA), May 2019

IT WOULD be almost impossible to discuss media freedom in Vietnam without first reviewing the country’s political situation over the past year.

The unique Communist one-party system, combined with a socialist-style free market economy, has created a narrow window of opportunity for non-state and independent media to grow over the years, despite state censorship. For the most part, the Internet in Vietnam is still accessible to the majority of the population. With the use of a VPN and other methods to jump over the firewall, people have been able to access almost all of the contents of websites the government had blocked. Vietnam has yet to build a Great Firewall like that of China.

But Vietnam in 2018 remains an authoritarian state under the rule of the Vietnamese Communist Party (VCP). The VCP had ruled over the north of Vietnam for more than seven decades, and after 1975, it had a political monopoly over the entire country. Since 1980, the Constitution of Vietnam has formally granted the VCP an absolute monopoly over the state and its people underArticle 4, which designates the VCP as the only leading force within society and government. This specific legal clause survived two rounds of constitutional amendments in1992 and 2013, effectively consolidating the power of the ruling party to date.

The Party’s total control of government functions was on full display on 23 October 2018, when it stunned international observers. The National Assembly – the legislative body of Vietnam – confirmed Nguyen Phu Trong, the general secretary of the VCP, as the next president with 99.7 percent of the votes.Viewed by some observers as a “party-builder” rather than a reformist, Trong was feared as a leader who would implement a hard-line approach to protect his party, leading some people to compare him to China’s strongman Xi Jinping. The thinking was that if the government decided that it was going to punish even more severely those who were critical of the VCP and its policies, the people’s rights and freedoms, including media freedom, would then be further curtailed in Vietnam.

Growing protests – and number of political prisoners

Indeed, such fears were substantiated in 2018 when Vietnam arrested a total of 113 dissidents — the highest number in the past five years. This figure exceeded the combined number of arrests made between 2013 and 2017, putting the total number of political prisoners incarcerated in Vietnam at 228 as of April 2019.

The year 2018 was also the year that the courts in Vietnam handed down the harshest sentences against political prisoners to date. Many of these defendants were either citizen journalists or bloggers. Cases of particular concern this year include Hoang Duc Binh, who was sentenced in February 2018 to 14 years, and Le Dinh Luong, who was sentenced in August 2018 to 20 years in prison. Both were well-known bloggers who wrote extensively about the aftermath of the 2016 Formosa environmental disaster, describing how it still affected local communities. (The disaster had been caused by a steel plant’s discharge of toxic waste into the sea, causing massive fish kills in central Vietnam.)

Police brutality during protests increased sharply this past year as well, demonstrating another sign of intolerance towards dissidents. In June 2018, the largest nationwide protest in Vietnam since April 1975 broke out in several major cities with thousands of people marching on the streets. They were demanding the National Assembly immediately stop deliberating on the two draft bills regarding the cybersecurity law and the development of three special economic zones. Protestors, however, were met with police brutality, and a de-facto martial law was imposed in Ho Chi Minh City during several weekends that followed. Project 88, an independent civil-society organization, estimated that there were more than 60 people arrested and charged with “inciting public disorder” due to their participation in the protests.

Despite the protests, the National Assembly voted to approve the new cybersecurity law on 12 June 2018, with a strong majority of close to 97 percent. These votes demonstrated the VCP’s willingness to clamp down on online civic space, something it had long promised to do in state media.

But the VCP, while hardening its approach during these past 15 months, has been targeting not only political dissidents. In late 2018, the Party moved to discipline one of its own. Professor Chu Hao was part of a minority group within the Party, which consisted of Party members who had been showing overt support for liberal political theories and democracy. Chu Hao and those who shared his views were later ousted by the VCP, marking what was dubbed the Party’s “war against intellectuals” on social media. Their civil-society organization, the Phan Chau Trinh Cultural Foundation — named after Vietnam’s most popular thinker in the 20th century — was shut down in February 2019, after more than a decade of promoting higher education in the country. The decision to close the foundation is believed to have been politically motivated because of Chu Hao, who was expected to be the next in line for the presidency of the foundation.

Engaging with outsiders, but…

At the same time, however, in what could be considered as positive prospects for Vietnam’s politics, the country remained eagerly open to trade with Western countries. Vietnamese leaders continued to welcome the global market as evidenced by the ratification of the Comprehensive and Progressive Agreement for Trans-Pacific Partnership (CPTPP) in November 2018. International trade agreements such as the CPTPP and the upcoming European Union-Vietnam Free Trade Agreement (EV-FTA) do carry with them some obligations and conditions based upon human-rights benchmarks.

With the CPTPP, Vietnam had agreed to allow independent unions to be organized by the workers outside of the VCP’s control. While the Labour Code is yet to be modified, the government did confirm in late 2018 that the formation of independent unions will be addressed once the code is finalized. During the negotiations of the EV-FTA, Vietnam’s willingness to quickly ratify the three remaining ILO conventions — which include Convention No. 87, the Freedom of Association and Protection of the Right to Organize — was also among the priority issues for the EU before its parliament was to vote on the trade deal.

Vietnam’s Press Law of 2016 faced harsh criticism by the UN Human Rights Committee in March 2019 after Vietnam underwent its review under the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. The Committee was concerned because it had found that Vietnam’s Press Law includes “restrictions aimed at ensuring strict adherence to and promotion of government policy” and that it “prohibits any criticism of the government”.

The Committee’s concerns mirrored what happened in reality, as demonstrated by the fining and three-month-suspension of Tuoi Tre’s websites in July 2018 for publishing articles that the government disapproved of. Tuoi Tre, possibly the largest newspaper in Vietnam, is the official publication of the Ho Chi Minh Communist Youth Union in Ho Chi Minh City.

A worrisome new law

Meanwhile, the newly enacted cybersecurity law of 2018 not only prompted people to protest on the streets; it also was of concern among both domestic and international civil-society and human-rights organizations that found it deeply troubling.

The much-maligned code, seeking to impose even stricter regulations on Internet users in Vietnam, has at least seven strikingly similar provisions to laws in China. It seems as if both governments are using their cybersecurity laws to directly target information deemed to be dangerous to both regimes. Yet, at the same time, the definition of such information is broad and vague in both countries. According to the Vietnamese version, it would cover just about everything, including energy, finance, transportation, media, and publications, as well as electronic governance, military-security, national secrets, banking, natural resources, the environment, chemicals, medicine, and other national security structures.

The law’s most negative effect could be the extent to which it seeks to control Internet service providers, including foreign corporations, within Vietnam’s sovereignty. Service providers under the new law are required to collect and verify the true identity of their users. They also must localize their data storage and open a representative office in Vietnam. Upon law enforcement’s request, service providers would be required to supply stored data to the police and cooperate with any ongoing investigation. There is no judicial oversight over the extent of requests from the police, and there is also no legal process for opposing them.

There has yet to be a case where a Vietnamese national was arrested or convicted under the new cybersecurity law since it took effect on 1 January 2019. Still, there have been worrying signs of possible compliance from tech giants, such as Facebook and Google, to restrict content and turn over users’ data.

Big Brother’s assistants?

In March 2019, Vietnam’s state newspaper – The People’s Armed Force online – reported that by the end of June 2018, Google had removed thousands of video clips from YouTube – a Google product – including “300 clips carrying subversive content, inciting subversion against the VCP and the government; 6 YouTube channels were blocked completely”. It also stated that Facebook removed links and accounts that “defamed, misrepresented, and propagandized against the VCP and the government”.

A quick review of the Google Transparency Report and Facebook’s Government Requests Report for 2018 did not exactly corroborate all the claims stated in the Vietnamese article. But they indeed showed an increase in content restrictions in compliance with government requests. Google disclosed that between January-June 2018, Vietnam’s Authority of Broadcasting and Electronic Information, under the Ministry of Information and Communications, asked it to remove “over 3,000 YouTube videos that mainly criticized the Communist Party and government officials”. Google also said that that it “restricted the majority of the videos from view in Vietnam, based on Decree 72”.

Facebook’s reports indicated that the company complied with a total of 265 content restriction requests from the Vietnamese government during the first six months of 2018, compared to 22 requests from July-December 2017 — a whopping 1163.64-percent increase.

Facebook also admitted that it had released some Vietnamese user data to the government under either “legal process” or “emergency requests”. From January-June 2017, Facebook released information in response to 25 percent of the requests, 38 percent between July and December 2017, and 17 percent during the first six months of 2018. Up until 2017, Facebook said, it had never released Vietnamese user data to the government under any circumstances.

What Facebook and Google have done is the primary reason why so many Vietnamese people have protested this Orwellian law. They believe that it would turn both Internet users and their service providers into government’s informants, effectively assisting “Big Brother” to keep a close watch on everyone’s online activities.

Facebook turns opaque while netizens get battered

In fact, the government had declared in December 2018 that the Internet would be its new “battlefield”. Specifically, the battles on Facebook had been the most brutal for citizen journalists, bloggers, and independent media organizations. Access Now, a non-profit organization focusing on assisting human-rights defenders with digital security issues, also noted the increase in the number of Facebook account suspensions and removals in Vietnam after the cybersecurity law was passed in 2018. Further, Access Now identified a few tactics that it believed to be the work of Force 47, which it described as “a 10,000-person military unit tasked with combating ‘wrong views’ online that criticize the government or promote ideas counter to the governing party’s ideology”.

Activists and freelance journalists like Hoang Dung, Le Nguyen Huong Tra, and Truong Chau Huu Danh are among those who have had their accounts either suspended or removed by Facebook. Most of their appeals have gone unanswered. Tra is even a “blue badger”, which means that Facebook has already verified her as a journalist, which should mean per its own policy that her account would receive more protection . But her account was suspended twice in September 2018. The most recent suspension of Tra’s account happened around February 2019. Danh, another freelancer who writes extensively about corruption at BOT (Build-Operate-Transfer) toll booths, is currently using what would be his third Facebook account because Facebook took disciplinary actions on his other two.

What frustrates Vietnamese Facebook users the most about this phenomenon is that Facebook has refused to explain its decisions, which it considers to be final. Affected users have been unable to find out the specific “community standard” they were accused of violating, even after they had appealed their cases.

The standards that Facebook has been using, however, appeared even more arbitrary when coupled with the operation of its unknown, undisclosed third party’s fact-checkers. For example, in March 2019, Facebook deleted four articles from the fan page of Luat Khoa online magazine for violating its “community standards”. It has yet to give further explanation for its action. The titles of these four pieces are: “US-China’s trade negotiations: America wants China to scale down its cybersecurity law” ; “Vietnam owes Cambodia an apology”; “A look at different ‘isms’”; “Donald Trump’s life story: Crisis and a father’s safety net”.

Over 17,000 people signed an online petition initiated by Luat Khoa in July 2018, asking Facebook to provide its position on the new cybersecurity law. A summary of the signatures was gathered and sent to Mark Zuckerberg by FedEx delivery in October 2018. Yet, the company to this day remains unresponsive. Mai Khoi, a Vietnamese dissident singer, wrote on her Facebook page in January 2019 that although she had met with several people at Facebook to discuss these issues, it did not lead to any substantial progress.

Intimidation offline continues

Still, it is one thing for Facebook to suddenly take down a page, and another for a person to disappear altogether. At the end of January 2019, news that a journalist and former political prisoner, Truong Duy Nhat, had disappeared in Bangkok, Thailand, exploded on Vietnamese social media. Nhat was last seen the day before he went missing at the office of the UNHCR or the UN Refugee Agency, and his family had confirmed that he was seeking political asylum. By late March 2019, Nhat’s wife received notice from a prison centre in Hanoi that she could send money and necessities to Nhat there, which indirectly confirmed that the government had him in their detention.

Journalist Pham Doan Trang can barely claim even cold comfort, however, for facing “only” increased intimidation and threats from the government during this past year. The actions of the government against her seem to be connected to her publication of her books. To date, Trang has written and published three books on the topics of politics, policymaking, and criminal procedures. – Southeast Asian Press Alliance (SEAPA), May 2019

TIMOR LESTE’S ranking in the latest press-freedom index of Reporters Without Borders (RSF) leaped by 11 places from the previous year, but those on the ground do not feel any improvement in the country’s media conditions.

Indeed, in January 2019 alone, there were already at least three cases of press intimidation and interference reported by the media community. On 9 January, Gil da Costa, chairperson of the Board of Directors of the state broadcaster Timor Leste Radio and Television (RTTL), was sacked unceremoniously and swiftly replaced by Francisco da Silva.

Two days later, RTTL EP reporter Constancio Vieira reported to the Press Council of Timor-Leste that the head of Office of the Secretary of State for Social Communication (SECOMS), Julio Goncalves, had threatened to fire him because he had said on social media that press freedom in Timor Leste was now in the ICU. On 28 January, five RTTL journalists led by Nuno Saldanha also went to the Press Council to report that Shinta Hanjan, adviser to new RTTL board chairperson da Silva, had asked for the removal of content from news stories.

RSF’s 2019 Press Freedom Index has Timor-Leste at 84th place, out of 180 countries. Its rank is the highest among the 11 countries in Southeast Asia. But that has been cold comfort for Timor-Leste’s journalists, who say that government officials still do not seem to understand how media work or appreciate and understand freedom of the press. To many, the sudden sacking of da Costa as RTTL chairperson was a significant alarm bell, deeming it as the first direct political interference in a media outlet since Timor Leste became independent from Indonesia in 2002.

Lack of transparency

Although the official reason for da Costa’s dismissal was the discovery of “irregularities at RTTL” during his tenure, the audit findings have yet to be made public and are apparently not known even to da Costa. The former RTTL chairperson was also not given a chance to defend himself from the allegations. Da Costa was later quoted by local media as saying that he may have been fired for “refusing to allow political meddling in the editorial work of RTTL”.

“As head of RTTL, I have always insisted that I wanted it to be an independent institution without political interference,” da Costa was also quoted as saying. “And I’ve tried to do this. And there was a lot of political interference.”

Articles 40 and 41 of the Timor-Leste Constitution guarantee freedom of the press and freedom of expression. It has also ratified at least 10 international conventions relating to human rights and civil and political rights. In addition, the country has a Press Law (2014) that established the Press Council and, among other things, affirms and guarantees freedom of the press and the citizens’ right to information.

Article 41 of the Press Law, which is on “attacks on freedom of information”, says as well that a two-year jail term or a fine awaits anyone seizing media equipment or impeding journalists from doing their work, or obstructing or impounding publications. State agents who engage in attacks on freedom of information are to suffer up to three years in prison or a fine.

All these, however, made little difference to the officials who RTTL staff said interfered with their work. On 27 December 2018, photojournalist Carlos Malilaka of Timor Post was also threatened by police officers while he was out on fieldwork in a Dili suburb. The police took his camera and deleted all the photos recorded in it. The incident has been reported to the Press Council.

So far, the Press Council of Timor-Leste has held a press conference condemning the political interference in RTTL’s news room and the threat uttered by SECOMS head Goncalvez. The Council also called on state entities to respect freedom of the press and protect the country’s journalists when they are carrying out their media duties.

The Timor Lorosa’e Association or TLJA also had its own press conference condemning the attitude of the SECOMS head, saying he had threatened not just one person, but also freedom of the press itself. A copy of the TLJA press statement was given to the Press Council and the Prime Minister, asking for sanctions to be meted on Goncalvez.

The five-member Press Council consists of a representative of media organizations, two journalists elected by their colleagues to represent them, and two citizens “of recognized integrity and professional merit” appointed by the National Parliament. According to the Press Law, it has the “essential duty to ensure the professional and ethical conduct of journalists and media operators, as well as ensuring compliance with the conditions to access the profession and to perform journalistic activities”.

Less than ideal conditions

For sure, media conditions in this young nation are still far from ideal. For one, there are many people – among them members of the security forces and even government officials — who do not understand the work of journalists, placing the latter at risk of violent attacks. In the private sector, many large companies and members of the elite still offer money or envelopes to journalists covering business news and other matters. Too, weak media literacy among the public has meant many Timorese lack the ability to discern news based on facts from stories that are mere rumours or speculation.

Unfortunately, many members of the Timor-Leste media themselves often fall short of professional standards and fail to adhere to the code of ethics and principles of journalism. Some, for example, are too quick to publish without verification and contribute to the spread of false news and sometimes even to conflict. There are also those who are afraid to be critical of those in power and end up practising self-censorship. Moreover, the failure of some journalists to research and improve their understanding of the subjects they are covering have led to too many stories that lack analysis and substance.

In the meantime, the Timor-Leste media community is closely following discussions on two legislative proposals that may have a significant impact on media freedom and freedom of expression.

The National Parliament, for instance, has expressed its concerns over the misuse of social media, saying that this has not been used as an informative and educative means of modern communication. MPs have publicly criticized social-media users as irresponsible and instrumental in spreading rumours, hoaxes, and disinformation, as well as having insulted the country’s leaders. All these could lead to political instability, the lawmakers have said. Parliament has thus called on the Ministry of Transportation and Telecommunication to draft a law in order to regulate the use of social media in the country.

SECOMS, for its part, is planning to draft a cybercrime law. According to SECOMS, the Press is too general, which makes it necessary to have a special law for cyber-media. But while there are those who welcome the proposal, some observers are suggesting caution and urging proponents to first study existing laws to avoid overlaps and conflicts in objectives. Too, they stress the need for consultation with various entities to ensure a rich and balanced discussion, and that freedom of expression and freedom of the press are not compromised. – Southeast Asian Press Alliance (SEAPA), May 2019

THE ROUGH and tumble world of politics is supposed to be the territory of male journalists in Indonesia, but many of their female counterparts say they are not only being assigned to cover it, they are also able to do it well.

Yet while women journalists say that they have opportunities to cover politics, cultural norms still hinder them at times to accept such assignments. They also admit that popular views of women as physically and intellectually weaker than men persist, which can affect their editors’ choice of whom to assign to political stories.

These were some of the findings of a survey conducted by the Forum Jurnalis Perempuan Indonesia (FJPI, Indonesian Women Journalists Forum) between February and March 2019. Some 105 women journalists from the eight provinces where FJPI is present — North Sumatra, West Sumatra, Aceh, Riau, Jambi, Papua, West Papua, and West Java Province — participated in the survey.

Through the survey, FJPI sought primarily to determine whether there is gender discrimination in the newsroom when it comes to political coverage. It also wanted to see how media companies were treating their female employees, as well as how women in management positions in such companies have been handling issues concerning women in the newsroom and elsewhere.

Most of the respondents or more than 93 percent said that men and women have the same opportunities in getting assignments in general. Majority (77) or about 73 percent also said that they have had experience in covering politics. Moreover, about 40 percent said that they went on political assignments alongside their male colleagues, a situation that can sometimes be controversial in Indonesia, which has become increasingly conservative in the last several years.

But some of the respondents who said that they had done political stories also admitted to being subjected to physical and verbal assaults, as well as to having overcome perceptions that they are “not smart enough” to be on the political beat. Yet only 35 percent of the 77 who have covered politics said that they did extensive research in preparation for their assignments, including reading books and looking up the track records of politicians.

Preparation is always a wise step for any journalist covering any beat, but it is especially vital for those doing political stories. According to more than 15 percent of the respondents who have had political assignments, interviewees for their stories tended to lie and use convoluted language when answering questions, which could fluster or confuse an unprepared reporter.

Meanwhile, some of the respondents said that while they are interested in doing political stories, they are unable to go to meetings or events that take place at night because of their family responsibilities and security concerns. They also worry about being perceived as having too close ties with male sources and interviewees, which is inevitable since males still dominate the country’s political scene.

Interestingly, women who are in management positions in media companies said that the “limited time” female journalists have for work — primarily because of their duties at home — is among the disadvantages of having women in media. They also listed the inability to work late nights and higher vulnerability to become victims to crime and violence among the drawbacks of women journalists. Too, the women bosses said that female media workers can be “spoiled,” are “less brave” and “slower” than men, “emotional,”, and have “physical problems” that apparently include their having their monthly periods, getting pregnant and giving birth, and having to breastfeed their children.

Indonesian labour laws actually allow women workers “menstruation leaves” of a maximum of two days each month. Maternity leaves are allowed for a maximum of three months, split into six weeks before a woman’s due date and six weeks after giving birth. Women who breastfeed are also supposed to be given time during work hours to be able to do so or at least pump the breast milk into containers.

Eighty-six percent of the survey’s respondents, though, said that they do not take menstruation leaves (but it is unclear if they meant they do not ask for leaves themselves or if management disallows them to have these). More than 78 percent also said that there are no designated spaces for breastfeeding in their companies’ premises.

At the very least, however, there seems to be little discrimination when it comes to wages. Nearly 82 percent of the respondents said that there is no difference in the salaries and allowances of men and women journalists who are on similar levels.

Still, only a few women have managed to break the glass ceiling. Out of 105 respondents, only 37 (35 percent) were in management-level posts. Yet even though they had been quick to come up with the disadvantages of having women journalists, they had a longer list of positive things to say about their female colleagues. Among these are what they said is women’s ease in building communications with sources. They also said that women are more sensitive, meticulous, diligent, deft, empathetic, patient and do not give up quickly, loyal, and responsible. To these women managers, female reporters are fit for in-depth news, including those involving politics.

Asked how they ensure gender equality in the newsroom and in the stories their outfits cover, the women managers said that they try to recruit females as much as possible, prioritize female sources for stories, and give women reporters the opportunity to cover any kind of news. Nearly half or 46 percent of the women executives, however, stressed that competence still mattered more than gender in recruiting reporters, and 51 percent in assigning them stories. Only 24 percent also said that they made it a point to give space in their publications for stories concerning women.

Some of the respondents who have done political stories meanwhile said that while the work can be complicated, they enjoy doing it and are comfortable covering political issues. They also said that they are able to share their perspectives as women with political insiders because of their work, and raise issues concerning women and children that can be overlooked in politics’ predominantly male environment.

Former Metro TV reporter Meutya Hafid, who left journalism for politics a few years back, has commented that there should be more women covering politics and other so-called “hard” beats.

“We want equal representation in various story angles, whether political, social, cultural, or economic,” she said. “I hope that more women could become journalists and cover important, strategic matters.”

Meutya said that more women journalists should also try to cover conflict areas despite the obvious dangers involved. In 2005, while on a reporting assignment in Iraq, she and her cameraman were kidnapped and taken hostage for about a week. In Indonesia, some areas such as in the mountains of Papua and West Papua can be hostile territory even without armed conflicts; especially during elections, politicians there see members of the media as enemies rather than professionals just doing their job.

According to Meutya, anyone wanting to cover conflict areas should already have formidable skills and experience, aside from strong reporting instincts.

She added, “I hope that more women cover conflict areas, especially because there are actually a lot of stories there that could show the humanist side of an event or conflict that may escape a male reporter. Moreover, it has been said that the biggest losers in conflicts are women.”

In general, respondents to FJPI’s survey said that they hope for less intimidation and intervention from authorities — as well as from their own employers — whenever they do political stories. They also said that they could do with more seminars on political issues, along with workshops on investigative and disaster journalism, and safety and self-defense training. — Southeast Asian Press Alliance (SEAPA), May 2019

THE YEAR 2019 marks the second decade of Indonesian media’s reform era. Although strongman Soeharto stepped down as president of Indonesia in 1998, it was only in 1999 that reforms began in the country’s media industry, with the passage of the landmark Press Law (Law No. 40 of 1999) on 23 September that year.

Twenty years on, however, Indonesian journalists are having a hard time remaining optimistic about the chances of improvement in media conditions. Data gathered by the Aliansi Jurnalis Independen (AJI, Alliance of Independent Journalists) and other groups show little change from those reported in previous years — not exactly good news. After all, violence against journalists had been escalating in the last decade, and there is still no sign of it letting up.

The high number of complaints filed by members of the citizenry with the Press Council in 2018 also indicates that either the Indonesian media may need to be more professional or the public needs to understand the role of the press better. Then again, it could also be both. Adding to the media’s constant worries are regulations — particularly the Criminal Code and the Electronic Information and Transaction Law — that have hindered freedom of the press.

This is echoed in the findings of the US-based Freedom House, which factors in freedom and independence in media in coming up with a country’s “freedom score.” For 2018, Indonesia was determined to be “Partly Free,” with a score of 62 out of 100. Its score for freedom and independence in media was 3 out of 4 — unchanged from the previous year.

Freedom House observed that while the country “hosts a vibrant and diverse media environment…legal and regulatory restrictions hamper press freedom.” It also noted that Indonesian journalists were still being subjected to “assaults, arrests, threats, and other forms of obstruction…with perpetrators including politicians, police, and military officials.”

A “press freedom index” is one of the instruments often used to measure media conditions in a country. The factors assessed in such an index include the legal, political, and economic climates. Outside of Indonesia, AJI usually refers to the press freedom index released annually by the France-based Reporters Without Borders or Reporters Sans Frontières (RSF). Within the country, AJI refers to reports by the Press Council.

In RSF’s 2018 Press Freedom Index, Indonesia fared better than most of its Southeast Asian neighbors. The exception was Timor-Leste, whose 98th slot was 26 places ahead that of Indonesia. Within Asia, just five others ranked higher than Indonesia: South Korea (63), Mongolia (69), Japan (72), the Chinese Special Administrative Region of Hong Kong (73), and Nepal (100). At 124th place out of 180 countries, however, Indonesia cannot exactly say that it is doing well.

The Indonesian Press Council’s 2018 Press Index, meanwhile, categorized media freedom in the country as “Medium” or “Fairly Free.” This means conditions improved by just a little bit compared to the previous year.

Journalists still under attack

AJI’s own Advocacy Division collects data through direct reports and media monitoring. In 2018, it documented at least 64 cases of violence against journalists — the second highest number in the past decade. The highest recorded number of such cases in a year so far was posted in 2016 — 81 — and the lowest in 2009, at 39.

AJI recorded 12 cases of physical violence — beating, hitting, slapping — against journalists from January to December 2018. There were also 11 cases each of expulsion and reporting restrictions, as well as of threats. Among the other cases were those involving the destruction of journalists’ equipment and footage (eight cases) and criminalization (also eight).

It is the remaining three cases, however, that concern AJI the most, since they point to a new, worrisome trend. This new type of violence against journalists involves the tracking of an individual’s private information and releasing this online with malicious intent. AJI has decided to categorize such violence as online persecution.

In 2018, one online-persecution victim was Kartika Prabarini, who received threats on her Instagram account after Kumparan.com on 28 May 2018 published an exclusive report regarding the leader of the hardline group Islamic Defenders Front (FPI). Prabarini was one of the reporters who wrote the story that reviewed several legal cases faced by FPI’s leader Rizieq Shihab; the piece had been called “Menjinakkan Rizieq” or “Taming Rizieq.” FPI’s supporters accused Kumparan.com of being disrespectful of their leader because, among several reasons cited, the online publication did not put a “habib” title before his name. “Habib” is a title bestowed on Muslims who have been able to trace their roots back to the prophet Muhammad.

A supporter of Rizieq Shihab, whose online handle was @mastermeme.id, revealed Prabarini’s identity on social media. The followers of @mastermeme.id then began threatening and harassing her online through rude and inappropriate comments regarding her gender and looks. A team called the Lawyers of Activists and Islamic Scholars also threatened to report her and Kumparan.com to the police. The online bullying and intimidation ended only after Kumparan.com ran an editorial of apology.

Gibran Maulana of Detik.com also suffered online persecution after he wrote an article that included a quote from the Brotherhood of Alumni 212’s spokesperson Novel Bamukmin. (The “212” refers to a series of demonstrations that conservative Indonesian Muslims staged for causes ranging from demanding that former Jakarta Governor Basuki “Ahok” Tjahaja Purnama be prosecuted for blasphemy, to supporting the Muslim Rohingya people in Myanmar.)

Apparently, Bamukmin had told homemakers to vote for Prabowo Subianto and Sandiaga Uno — the Indonesian presidential and vice presidential candidates challenging incumbent President Joko Widodo and his running mate Ma’ruf Amin in the 2019 elections — if they want to be rewarded with heaven in the afterlife. The quote, as published by Detik.com on 12 October 2018, read: “Ma’am, you want to go to heaven? Ask Allah, ask His Prophet, ask Prabowo, ask Sandiaga Uno. Correct? Takbir. God willing, you will go to heaven.”

But Bamukmin protested, saying that he had said “love,” not “ask.” Detik.com insisted that the interview tape confirmed clearly that Bamukmin did say “ask,” not “love.” Bamukmin requested for a right to reply, which was granted by Detik.com, but Maulana was harassed online anyway.

A Detik.com photojournalist, though, was made to go through both offline and online harassment. On 2 November 2018, the journalist had gone to cover a rally called “Aksi Bela Tauhid (Defend the Tauhid or Islamic Belief).” But some of the rally’s participants became upset when he began taking pictures of trash in the area. A video that was later uploaded and shared on social media showed one of the rallyists asking him in a shrill tone, “Why do you take photos of the garbage?” Another participant then chimed in, saying angrily, “Check his name-tag. Detik? Let us see your identity card. Please take a photo of his ID card.”

The text accompanying the video read: “Detik’s journalist was caught in the act wanting to paint a bad picture of the Aksi Bela Tauhid by photographing the trash.” The video ended up becoming viral on YouTube, Instagram, Facebook, and WhatsApp. An Instagram and a Facebook user even shared a screenshot of the photojournalist’s identity card (KTP) and press card. Not only was the photojournalist bullied online, he was threatened as well.

Media’s less than good behavior

To be sure, however, there have been many complaints filed with the Indonesian Press Council in the last decade regarding the behavior of journalists and media outfits. Since 2010, the Council has received an average of more than 600 complaints a year. In 2018, it received 600 or just four less than the previous year.

Two of the most prominent cases handled by the Council in 2018 and early 2019 found the media respondents in error. On 30 May 2018 the daily Radar Bogor ran a story with the head: “Idling Around, Getting Paid Rp112 million (about USD 7,900).” The piece criticized President Joko Widodo’s appointment of former Indonesian President Megawati Soekarnoputri as the chief advisor of Agency for the Implementation of the State Ideology of Pancasila, and the big salary she was getting for the post. The story upset the supporters of Megawati, chairperson of the Indonesian Democratic of Struggle (PDI-P) party, and they attacked Radar Bogor’s office.

The Press Council followed up the case by examining the story. On 4 June 2018, it issued its verdict, in which it said that the story had violated Article 1 and Article 3 of the Journalist Code of Ethics or KEJ. Article 1 of KEJ requires journalists to be independent, to report accurate, balanced stories without any ill intentions. Article 3 of KEJ demands that Indonesian journalists check their information, publish balanced stories, leave out any judgmental facts and opinions, and apply the principle of presumption of innocence.

The Council suggested Radar Bogor to publish Megawati’s the right of reply. At the same time, however, it said that it could not justify her supporters’ acts of violence against Radar Bogor’s team.

The other case involved Indopos daily, which published a story speculating on the possible replacement of President Widodo’s running mate in the 2019 elections with former Jakarta Governor Ahok. The piece, which had the title “Ahok Will Replace Ma’ruf?,” ran on 13 February 2019, prompting Widodo’s campaign team to file a complaint with the Council.

The Council found that Indopos had violated KEJ, primarily because the paper had relied only on chats in social media for the story. It said that the piece lacked accurate information and that the daily violated Article 3 of KEJ because it did not double-check its materials and had spread fake news. The Council ordered Indopos to publish a right of reply and issue a formal apology.

Laws that bind

Not everyone upset by a particular report in media, however, is content with just filing a complaint with the Press Council. Some go to court, waving either the Criminal Code (better known by its Indonesian acronym KUHP) or the Electronic Information and Transaction Law (UU ITE) as their basis for pressing their case.

In 2018, UU ITE was used the most to criminalize journalists. On 21 July 2018, for example, Serat.idEditor in Chief Zakki Amali was reported to the Central Java Police by the rector of Semarang State University. The online publication had run a report investigating allegations of plagiarism committed by the rector, who then turned to UU ITE to file his own complaint with the authorities. The Central Java Police proceeded with the case and has already summoned Amali at least twice. The case is still ongoing as of this writing.

West Sumatra Governor Irwan Prayitno also used UU ITE to sue Haluan daily journalist Benni Okva Della. The governor said that a story written by Della had tarnished his reputation. He used UU ITE against Della for a post the latter had on social media that contained a weblink to the story. Prayitno also filed a complaint about the story with the Press Council. On 25 February 2019, the police named Della as a suspect.

AJI President and IndonesiaLeaks.id co-founder Abdul Manan meanwhile was among those reported by lawyer Elvan Gomez, citing KUHP Article 317, to the police on 23 October 2018. KUHP Article 317 covers false complaints. The case had been triggered by an investigative piece published by five media outlets in collaboration with IndonesiaLeaks.id, a platform that enables whistleblowers to submit crucial documents relating to scandals that could implicate public interests. The story, “The Red Book Scandal,” exposed the spoliation of evidence that showed transfers of big money from Indonesia’s Anti-graft Agency police investigators to the police’s elite. The police have yet to take any further actions. Gomez also filed a civil lawsuit against Manan with the South Jakarta District Court on 25 October 2018, but he withdrew it the next day.

KUHP is actually a relic of Indonesia’s Dutch colonial era. The government and lawmakers have been trying to revise it since 2015, with renewed efforts in 2018. Such efforts, however, have been without inputs from the media community.

The Legal Aid Institute for the Press (LBH Pers) has said that at least 16 articles in the KUHP could threaten journalists. These are: Article 309 and 310, which regulate fake news and unconfirmed news; Article 328 and 329, which are on disruption and misdirection of court proceedings; Article 771, 772, and 773, which govern criminal charges against publishing and printing; and Article 228, 229, 230, 234, 235, 236, 237, 238, and 239 regarding creating, collecting, storing, revealing and leaking state secrets.

Revision of the KUHP is still ongoing. — Southeast Asian Press Alliance (SEAPA), May 2019

WHEN PROVIDING Official Development Assistance or ODA, Western donors typically require the recipient states to adhere to international political norms, such as the ratification of human rights, fiscal austerity, bank secrecy laws, and environmental standards. For the World Bank or Asian Development Bank, these include the implementation of market-based mechanisms, macroeconomic reforms, and removal of state protection for investments. Apart from grants, ODA also comes in the form of concessional loans, which have lower-than-market interest rates and have longer grace periods.

Chinese State-Backed Finance

China’s official foreign aid (including grants, interest-free loans, and concessional loans) does not necessarily meet the technical criteria of Western ODA. For instance, China’s concessional loans do not contain a big enough grant element to qualify as ODA. Specifically, because China’s major financial institutions (banks and funds) are all state-backed, they often finance projects that serve the Chinese state’s political purposes. We thus use the term “state-backed financing” to include various types of loans (not just the interest-free loans and concessional loans that fall under China’s official foreign aid) from China’s state-backed financial institutions. It may also include loans for Chinese foreign direct investment or FDI. For example, China’s Silk Road Fund, a state-backed institution, has been providing funding for equity investment overseas. Figure 1 shows different types of state-backed financed, the overlaps with FDI, and the limits.

Chinese State-Backed Finance

The Chinese government professes a “no-interference” principle in its foreign-aid policy. Put simply, it insists that it does not meddle with the recipient countries’ internal affairs, be it economic or political. But China rarely gives cash aid. Most of Chinese aid comes in the form of construction projects, such as infrastructure, social-service facilities (schools and hospitals), or other types of facilities (agricultural centers). 

One implicit “condition” is that these aid projects are to be built by Chinese companies, which are selected by Beijing through tendering. In some cases, Beijing does agree to the recipient government’s request to select the project’s builder themselves. Before receiving China’s official foreign aid or any type of financing, there is a precondition for establishing any official diplomatic relations with the PRC, which means agreeing to Beijing’s “One China Principle” (also known as One-China Policy) or disavowing any meaningful relations with Taiwan. Research has also shown that China gives more aid to countries that share its foreign-policy positions.

A lot of Chinese foreign aid are “turn-key” infrastructure projects, whereby construction contracts are automatically awarded to Chinese construction companies. The process of acquiring these contracts is complicated. In some cases, these projects are initiated by the host state and accepted by the PRC, which would be tendered to competing Chinese companies. In other cases, the Chinese construction companies begin the process by colluding with host state actors, and then the projects are brought to the Chinese government to be included in inter-governmental agreements. The latter, however, is not uncommon to development finance. There is anecdotal evidence that Japanese projects start from similar conditions.   

Political scientist Deborah Brautingam says that there are three types of Chinese “Foreign Aid”:

• Grants: Often free, targeted toward social institutions such as hospitals and schools, as well as agriculture research centers. The Chinese government would also consider the donation of goods—such as guns to the Philippine Army – training of staff, medical operations, volunteer programs,

• Interest-free Loans: Smaller, interest-free, and usually targeted toward public welfare and social development. Examples include irrigation, water development, and major roads. China has been providing this type of loans to other developing countries since the 1950s. In recent years, China has made a number of pledges to forgive this type of loans for some lowest-income and most indebted countries. 

• Concessional loans: Provided by China’s Export-Import Bank (EXIM), the policy bank responsible for issuing the “government concessional loans” (GLCs) under China’s foreign aid. These loans typically target the economy’s productive sector, such as large-scale mines, manufacturing, hydropower dams, and railways, are denominated in RMB, and typically have a two-percent interest rate, 20-year term, including a five-year grace period. They are cheaper than international commercial loans, but they may not be as cheap as Western ODA concessional loans, which are required to have a higher grant element and are targeted toward social infrastructures (capacity building, education, and empowerment of certain groups). In some instances, the financing of large-scale projects compromises concessional and commercial loans because of the upper limits for that each country can borrow the former. When these occur, Chinese loans become as, or even more, expensive than the international market’s commercial loans. Chinese loans, though, are usually quite appealing for host countries that want to quickly fund major infrastructure projects. Western ODA typically does not fund massive economic infrastructure projects due to the changes in donor priorities in the 1980s. Furthermore, China does not require host countries to conform to a series of policy conditions—macroeconomic reforms, human rights, environmental policies—that often come with Western ODA loans. Since the Belt and Road Initiative meeting last month, however, China has been attempting to make its state-backed financing adhere to international standards of transparency, social acceptability, and environmental safeguards.

Apart from foreign aid, there are some other forms of development finance: 

• “Preferential buyer’s credit” (PBC): Like “government concessional loans” (GLCs), this is also provided by the EXIM Bank of China. PBC targets economic infrastructure and productive sectors of the economy, and has similar interest rates, terms, and grace periods. Unlike GLCs, PBCs are denominated in U.S. dollars. While this financing does not fall under China’s official foreign aid, PBC is explicitly mandated to serve the Chinese state’s political aims and promote the export of Chinese goods and services. PBCs have funded many high-profile Chinese infrastructures in developing countries.

The currency denomination of both loans – GLCs and PBCs — is crucial. Since the renminbi remains largely unconvertible for states and firms, GLCs cannot be used outside of China to hire third-party firms to provide labor or other local materials. Hypothetically, this feature makes GLCs less prone to host state rent-seeking. These cases of GLC-dependent financing, however, limits direct economic spillovers during the construction process. 

Since PBCs are denominated in U.S. dollars, they are more flexible and can be used to hire local firms and workers. Since 2015, capital flight from China exponentially increased and overall dollar reserves started to dwindle—slowdown in export manufacturing and U.S.  treasury bond purchases—that seems to have limited the PBCs’ availability. Our research shows that China wanted to use GLCs to fund the South Rail Project, but the Philippine government disagreed, which led to a six-month negotiation and further delay.   

• Commercial loans: As stated earlier, China sometimes mixes commercial loans with concessional loans for large infrastructure projects. The commercial loans can be considered development finance, but not concessional, making these equally if not more expensive than market alternatives. The EXIM bank (which solely provides GLCs and PBCs), China Development Bank (CDB), or any of China’s “Five Big” state-owned commercial banks (Bank of China, China Construction Bank, Industrial and Commercial Bank of China, Bank of Communications, Agricultural Bank of China), as well as other smaller banks, can provide commercial loans.

• Loans provided by Chinese-led multilateral banks: Chinese-led multilateral banks, such as Asian Infrastructural Investment Bank and New Development Bank, are tasked to provide this type of loans.

• State-backed investment funds or loans to Chinese firms: Apart from loans, China also has a number of state-backed investment funds that supports equity investment in other countries. Examples include the US$10-billion China-Africa Development Fund and the US$40-billion Silk Road Fund. If invested in the host state, these would appear as either “FDI” or portfolio investment in the records, and it is often hard to distinguish which among the invested amount is state money.  

Chinese state-backed finance also includes commodity for loans. Loan payments would be commodities set at a certain market price in a given year. The canceled deal between Philippine Toledo Mines and China Shenhua Energy Limited in 2002 is a good example. The Kaliwa Dam and the Chico River Pump Irrigation projects are also backed by Philippine commodities.

Two most common modes for Chinese-built projects abroad, meanwhile, are Engineering, Procurement, and Construction (EPC) and Build, Operate, and Transfer (BOT). In EPC, the Chinese companies do not have any ownership in the project; they are hired by the host state governments to build the projects and are responsible for a series of activities from engineering, to procurement of materials and equipment, and to construction, as the name suggests. In BOT, the contractor acts more like a developer/investor; it not only builds the project, but will also operate it for a number of years and receive the proceeds from it (such as tolls for a toll road) as returns for its investment; after the agreed period, the project will be transferred back to the host government. 

From the perspective of the Chinese companies building the projects overseas, whether they are funded by China’s foreign aid (grants, interest-free loans, or concessional loans) or other types of development finance, this kind of activities is called international contracting. It is essentially a type of service export. But Chinese loans can also fund Chinese companies to be foreign investors in the host state’s infrastructure and projects. In the case of Indonesia, major infrastructures, ports, and railways have been negotiated via FDI rather than international contracting.

Chinese companies seeking to earn profits by participating in international contracting work closely with the Chinese government in exploring foreign markets, identifying aid and non-aid projects. Other preferences, such as Chinese labor usage, are typically adjustable. Chinese companies bring in their own engineers but hire local labor for low-skilled manual work. The host country can negotiate technology-transfer agreement with China and require local engineers to be trained on the project. 

In some cases, Chinese companies want to hire local labor for low-skilled jobs because of the cost of bringing Chinese labor overseas. The Chinese state also wants to demonstrate their job creation for the host state. Butthese do not happen all the time. Chinese firms may want to hire their own labor due to skills shortages, the difficulties of working with local labor, and the need to finish the project quickly. For instance, the Chinese government agreed to the use of Philippine labor in constructing the bridges and train projects; earlier, the North Rail project had used Filipino labor in the span of four years. 

The issue lies in whether or not Filipino workers have the needed skills. In reality, skilled Filipino labor—typically as engineers, teachers, call center workers—are trained for Western markets and do not converge with the requirements of Chinese technologies. Filipino engineers have been exported to work in the Middle East and elsewhere. But in broad terms, education has often been weak in the math and sciences than that of the Chinese, which would mean that Philippine competency in rails and engineering has not kept up adequately.

Chinese Foreign Direct Investments (FDI)

FDI is defined as the long-term ownership and management of firms or assets in the host state, which could take the form of greenfield, brownfield, and mergers and acquisitions. Chinese FDI does conform to the conventional definition, but there are still complications that need to be addressed. These include:

• Hong Kong and Macau:  Most analysts separate People’s Republic of China’s FDI from Hong Kong and Macau’s FDI, which leads to the underestimation of overall Chinese FDI. But it’s not that simple. When Hong Kong and Macau returned to the PRC’s sovereignty in 1997 and 1999, respectively, both former colonies were allowed to maintain their capitalist market economy, separate from Mainland China’s socialist system. This is known as “One Country, Two Systems.”

The PRC maintained restrictions on foreign direct and portfolio investments as well as other forms of finance capital, but Hong Kong, which has always been a free port, is open to the world. The city state also has been run according to a laissez-faire philosophy with small government and low taxes, which makes it a tax haven for companies. PRC has strategically leveraged Hong Kong’s position. Many Chinese firms have used Hong Kong’s capital market to raise capital, import sensitive technologies from the West, as well as to use it as an offshore center for outward investment. 

In recent years, China has also used Hong Kong to promote the internationalization of its currency. In other words, a good amount of FDI in the PRC either belongs to subsidiaries of Chinese SOEs or companies owned by Hong Kong economic elites who have developed close relationships with the Chinese Communist Party (CCP). Hong Kong’s publicly listed stocks comprise a good amount of Chinese state-owned enterprises or SOEs of all sizes.

• Syndicate Loans: What is typically understood as “Chinese” FDI can compromise financing from Western and global lending institutions to fund a foreign investment project. What often happens is that Chinese state or private companies establish subsidiaries in Hong Kong, which enables them to acquire syndicate loans from numerous global lending institutions to fund projects. Syndicate loans, which are defined as two or more lenders jointly lending to one or more borrowers on similar terms but different duties, are often used by multinational or Chinese companies to invest. Chinese state or private companies are able to do this through their subsidiaries in Hong Kong. 

Typically, global financing institutions cannot lend to companies located in China due to the regulations of private capital inflows in China and the control of credit by the PRC. Moving to Hong Kong, creating subsidiaries, and bypassing the PRC’s rules enable Chinese companies to use global capital to fund projects. Examples of these lending institutions are Wells Fargo, Citibank, Offshore Incorporations Limited Group. 

Syndicate loans from Western institutions play an important role to maintaining the CCP’s interest. China is still a developing country that needs to generate performance-based legitimacy from its citizens’ economic growth and development. But increasing the amount of FDI sent to the developing world for commercial or political interests can generate suspicions on the party’s primary responsibility. At the same time, China cannot decrease its investment growth due to the need to project the image of China’s inevitable rise, the interest of investors, and the CCP’s political promises to its partners in the host state. 

When these issues occur, a Chinese firm goes to Hong Kong with a minimum level of financing commitment from the Chinese government. For example, one of China’s state-owned commercial banks provides 10 percent of the equity to the project while the firm borrows the rest. In this case, 90 percent of capital will come from the HK-based global lending institutions, which draw from the reserves of Western economic elites in tax havens. Upon the moment of investing, that 90 percent will be considered or recorded “Chinese FDI” in any dataset because of the “ultimate beneficiary” principle (i.e. the user is the owner). In an analogous example, Davao-based businessman Dennis Uy borrowed funds from the Bank of China, the ICBC, and other Chinese financial institutions. While the money came from China, these capitals are “considered” Filipino because Uy is the ultimate user. 

• Chinese State-owned Enterprises (SOEs):  During Mao Zedong’s era, China’s socialist economy prohibited private property. Private firms from the Republican era (1911-1949) were nationalized; the government also set up SOEs for all kinds of economic production. All companies were thus state-owned during Mao’s time. After his death, China began reforming the socialist economy. Starting from the 1980s, many SOEs were de facto privatized; SOE managers began running the enterprises autonomously like real entrepreneurs, instead of following the state’s plans and instructions. In the 1990s, China also launched a mass program to corporatize a large number of SOEs, resulting in the layoff of millions of state-employed workers. 

Today China continues to have a large number of SOEs, but of varying importance. The lower-level government an SOE belongs to, usually the less important it is to the CCP. The vast majority of SOEs are now run similarly to private corporations, with profit-seeking as the central goal, even though their personnel decisions remain subject to CCP control. But there are around 100 SOEs that are owned by the central government that occupy the strategic sectors such as energy, transportation, aviation, shipping, and telecommunication, and continue to follow closely the central government’s policies. 

These central SOEs have also been very active in investing overseas, and some of them have become some of the largest corporations in the world. Sinomach, the Chinese company building North Rail, and State Grid, which has invested in the Philippines, are two of the central SOEs. These SOEs usually operate as massive conglomerates with numerous subsidiaries and subsidiaries of subsidiaries. It is a complicated system of multiple Chinese firms with sometimes converging and competing interests. This leads to coordination problems in the Chinese economy, which many academics have noted. But this system creates even more problems outside China, such that multiple companies that may or may not be connected to each other find partners in the host state.

• Variation of Chinese FDI. Due to the debacle of the ZTE and the North Rail Projects, analysts in the Philippines tend to equate Chinese firms with rent-seeking. This assumes a single behavior or tendency of Chinese firms and ignores an enormous variation in terms of asset specificity, ownership, and investment size. There is no singular typical ‘Chinese firm’; instead, there is a multiplicity of national and regional state-owned enterprises, as well as private entrepreneurs. The size of the Chinese state and economy exacerbates the problem. For instance, there are over 50 million Chinese bureaucrats, a number that is half of the Philippine population, and over 500,000 Chinese party-state elites. Unlike the Philippines with few national parties, known congressional personalities, and economic magnates in Makati, Chinese state and economic elite number exponentially much more. This logic extends to the SOEs of all levels.

• Rent-Seeking, Chinese state-backed finance, and FDI:  The argument that Chinese FDI generates corruption is widely debated. A dominant strain in international business studies, which has been called “Chinese exceptionalism,” argues that Chinese state-oriented enterprises and private companies diverge from the conventional pattern of investing, preferring instead places with elevated levels of political, risk, weak institutions, and pervasive rent-seeking. Nonetheless, this characterization has been deeply contested, and there have been other studies that show the opposite results. 

Descriptively, recent investment data show that China is diverging from the pattern of investing in states with high levels of corruption. The World Investment Report (UNCTAD 2015) shows that nine out of the 17 biggest recipients of Chinese FDI are states known to have strong institutions. Observes sociologist Ho-fung Hung: “Hong Kong and Caribbean tax havens top the list of 20 economies that absorbed most Chinese investment (either measured in stock or annual flow), followed by a host of developed countries.” 

Linking this back to syndicate loans, Chinese FDI in tax havens does end up becoming the “global capital” that Chinese companies borrow to fund their projects. Because these capitals started in the tax havens, they become less prone to the CCP’s meddling and potential overreach.  

• Chinese FDI from other forms of state-backed financing.  Philippine analysts also typically conflate Chinese FDI with other forms of financial inflows such as development finance, loans, or international contacts. 

This issue is more conceptual: researchers do not systematically define what Chinese FDI in general and what it is in the Philippines. Implicitly, there seems to be a bias toward, and understanding of, Chinese investments as a large-scale infrastructure or greenfield investment. For instance, the clamor against offshore gambling was partly built upon the South China Sea and Chinese workers. These ideas ignore the conventional definition of FDI, which is the long-term ownership of assets in a foreign entity or firm that can exert some degree of managerial control.

• Greenfield Investments as branch offices: Greenfield investments are defined as “newly established operations” in the host state wherein the foreign investor owns 100 percent of the asset or company. These investments can include major projects, such as the Indonesia-Morowali Industrial Park (IMIP), Malaysia’s MCKIP, and China’s similarly envisioned plan with the Ayalas. There is no specific parameter on what the firm should do. At the minimum, firms can establish branch offices in the host state to provide some minimum service. In the Philippines, the minimum requirement is US$150,000 and 50 employees. Branch offices typically sell their service to host state firms and governments rather than invest in host state firms or bolster the productive sector of the host economy. For example, the Sy family has established numerous SM firms in China with the help of China’s state-owned commercial banks. 

• Brownfield investments: A joint purchase of an existing asset can be considered as a brownfield investment. For instance, the State Grid Corporation of China’s created a consortium with two Philippine utility companies to purchase Transco Philippines and establish the National Grid Corporation of the Philippines. Indeed, the acquisition of existing assets or controlling stakes by Chinese companies has been often ignored in the analysis. Since the Duterte administration, the most prominent examples of brownfield investments are the offshore gambling firms. Many of these are joint ventures with Chinese-Filipinos or even Filipino businesses in the cities.

• Mergers and Acquisitions: Equity in Philippine firms by Mainland Chinese or Hong Kong citizens can be considered Chinese FDI. These investments typically do not generate employment or additional activities for the firm, but it hypothetically bolsters the firm’s activities and frees up capital for other use. For instance, China’s Geely owns 49.9 percent of Proton, a crown jewel of Malaysia’s political-economic history. 

• Non-major greenfield investments:  These are firms with 100-percent ownership by Chinese citizens. These firms also exist across sectors and regions, and many could be found in the Philippine “Special Economic Zones.” Additionally, these firms exist in all shapes and sizes, which means they do not need to be large-scale or generate employment. — PCIJ, May 2019

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*Alvin Camba is a China Initiative Fellow at the Global Development Policy Center and a Ph.D. Candidate at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland. He works on the political economy of Chinese foreign capital and elite theory. His works can be found at alvincamba.com.

** Stella Hong Zhang is a PhD candidate of public policy at Schar School of Policy and Government, George Mason University. She is currently writing her dissertation on the impact of China’s infrastructure development on the recipient countries’ state capacity.

The biggest recipient of Chinese foreign direct investments in the Philippines these days is the online or offshore gambling industry. Since Duterte assumed the presidency, real-estate companies, tours, hotels, and entertainment, as well as services across Metro Manila, Cebu, and the major cities have drawn the bulk of Chinese FDIs, after wholesale and retail.

THE FOURTH state visit to China of President Rodrigo R. Duterte just two weeks ago is said to have yielded business deals worth a total of US$12.165 billion and a grant of one billion renminbi (about US$148.5 million). The Duterte administration has also said that the deals alone could generate more than 21,000 jobs. So far, however, there seems to be little enthusiasm from the Filipino public over these supposedly laudable results from the President’s latest China trip. 

A possible reason for this is the public perception that the Duterte administration has been complicit to Chinese activities in the South China/West Philippine Sea in exchange for deals such as these. This perception in fact is already affecting the public’s reaction to the increasing presence of Chinese nationals in the country, which is being met with wariness, if not outright hostility. And yet, academics are in dispute on whether or not Chinese foreign direct investment or FDI has actually increased under Duterte. 

My own research shows that FDI has surged since Duterte took office. But it also shows that Chinese investment was still coming in during the presidency of Benigno ‘Noynoy’ S. Aquino III, who had taken China to the international arbitration court at The Hague on the matter of the South China/West Philippine Sea. The inflow of Chinese FDI during Aquino III’s term indicates that Chinese firms are capable of overlooking Beijing’s differences with another government and put their money where they think it will be worth the effort. In other words, Chinese firms act not with emotion, but with practicality. They do business for profit and to serve their own interests. They do not necessarily bother themselves with the question of whether or not their presence or monies benefit the people of the country in which they invest. In the real world, that should actually be the lookout of the recipient nation’s officials and business executives.  

Lower amounts for PH

Chinese foreign capital (FDI, development finance, and other forms of finances) in the Philippines actually lags behind comparable low to high-middle income states in Southeast Asia. While the numbers could change in the next few years, the Philippines currently has one of the lowest amounts of Chinese FDI and official development assistance (O

This lack of Chinese foreign capital should be examined in the context of the Philippines’ development strategy, which has been on the upward trajectory in the past few years, but has remained slowed, stagnant, and short-sighted. Indeed, the main comparative advantage of the country, the Business Process Outsourcing (BPO) sector, is bound to decline due to the expansion of artificial intelligence and new innovations; the sector cannot keep up with the number of fresh graduates that the Philippines produces every year. 

Apart from the BPO sector, the country has been kept afloat due to the reliance on exporting labor to generate foreign remittance inflows and bolster domestic consumption. But this strategy encourages brain drain or outmigration and relies on servitude in other states. In the meantime, our middle-income Southeast Asian neighbors have made it a crucial policy to actively tap Chinese FDI, culminating in developmental ventures that stress technology transfer, value-chain upgrading, and skills transfer.

While the Aquino III administration was lauded for its economic reforms, the development strategy during its term was short-sighted and did not build up the state’s real economic foundations. In 2009, at the tail-end of the Arroyo era, international capital markets experienced a huge influx of hot money due to the U.S. Federal Reserves’ quantitative easing. In this context, Philippine National Corporations or PNCs capitalized on the influx of hot money in capital markets to fund their commercial ventures.

The Aquino III administration later relied on Public-Private Partnership (PPP) that empowered the PNCs to spearhead Philippine infrastructure construction. But the PNCs were overly cautious, which resulted in institutional paralysis and painfully slow progress, leading to the completion of only a few large-scale projects.

Aquino III’s PPP thus failed to lay down the foundations for a sustainable and competitive Philippine economy. When quantitative easing ended in 2015, much of the ‘hot money’ placed in capital markets left in favor of the recovering U.S. stock market. 

At the end of Aquino III’s term, numerous Philippine cities with surging populations needed even more infrastructure services to support their quality of life. Infrastructure was also necessary to offset the cost of production, which would have attracted more FDI into the country. But Aquino III’s overly cautious and PNC-friendly strategy constrained the infrastructure buildup that the Philippines needed to take the next step in economic development. Diversifying the economic portfolio, sustaining long-term growth, and improving quality of life cannot occur without the massive infrastructure investment and FDI to generate jobs. 

Most of the Philippines’ foreign direct investments come from Japan, the United States, the Netherlands, and Singapore. China, however, has emerged to be one of the biggest sources of FDI in the world, jumping from a few hundred million U.S. dollars to US$1.3 trillion in 2015, which necessitate our policymakers to attract Chinese investments to bolster Philippine development. Hong Kong has also become the major offshore gateway for many Chinese firms. In 2015, Hong Kong’s FDI stock amounted to US$1.4 trillion.

Attracting FDI — long-term, managerial control of assets in the host state, via greenfield investments, joint ventures, and acquisition of controlling stakes — is extremely necessary for developing countries. Since the 1980s, countries across the globe have competed for FDI in order to achieve their developmental goals, such as revenue generation, employment, and skills transfer. 

Eye on profits still

When it comes to Chinese FDI, however, there have been growing concerns about its inherent differences from more “normal, usual” FDI. A popular notion is that that every Chinese firm is fully control and funded by the Chinese Communist Party (CCP). This is empirically misleading. Many Chinese firms go to Hong Kong to create subsidiaries in order to acquire financing from international syndicate loans, which usually come from Western and global private institutions. This goes back to how the Chinese government tempers the amount of FDI that goes to the developing world. While the conditions of the loans vary largely, one common feature is the weight assigned to commercial considerations and financial returns. These conditions make Chinese FDI behave closer to Western and conventional foreign investments.

The Philippines’ ‘China pivot’ came later compared to its Southeast Asian neighbors. It began in 2016, shortly after Duterte became president. Within months after his presidential inauguration, he went on a trip to Beijing and brought home an earmarked US$24 billion worth of FDI, construction contracts, and ODA. 

But many have argued that even after two whole years, Chinese investments have not yet reached these amounts. Notwithstanding the wrong expectations on both sides, this issue brings about a crucial question: how much is Chinese FDI in the Philippines?

In order to overcome data limitations, I used the Security Exchange Commission’s firm-registration to create a dataset on the annual number of new firms with Chinese FDI, which is defined as China money having more than 10 percent of shares.

Figure 1 shows that the number of new firms with Chinese FDI across six different Philippine presidents – from Corazon Aquino to Rodrigo Duterte. Chinese investments in the post-Marcos era initially began in the early 1990s. The figure also shows, though, that the number of firms vastly increased from 2002 onward, jumping from an average of 309 and 541 during the Arroyo and Aquino administrations respectively to 1,092 during the first two years of the Duterte presidency.

In the early 1990s, the dataset shows, there were very few firms with Chinese FDI until Arroyo came into power. This lack of investments, however, cannot be attributed to China’s lack of willingness to invest. After all, in the early 1990s, Chinese ODA increased in sub-Saharan Africa while Thailand, Vietnam, and Zambia were some of the first states to received substantial Chinese FDI. 

Chinese FDI initially expanded in the natural resource industry, enabling Chinese state-owned enterprises or SOEs to import minerals to supply China’s export sector, which sent manufactured goods to the West. The uptick of Chinese FDI during the Arroyo administration, however, can be explained by Arroyo’s foreign policy and development strategies, which wanted to bring the Philippines closer to China, and also China’s ‘Go Out Policy’ or 走出去战略, which encouraged Chinese enterprises to invest outside. In the mid-2000s, legal reforms in China allowed Chinese SOEs and private enterprises to pursue mergers and acquisitions; previously, this had not been permitted by Beijing. 

More under Aquino

Notably, the dataset demonstrates that despite Aquino III’s firm stance in the South China Sea/West Philippine Sea, which had angered Beijing, the number of firms with Chinese shareholders almost doubled those of Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo’s time. This only indicates that the disputes did little to interrupt the economic relationships between Chinese and Philippine business partners. 

The increasing number of firms with Chinese investments after 2010 – or during the Aquino III presidency — can be explained by the Philippines’ economic growth. After 2008, the financial crisis limited Western manufacturing consumers and forced China to diversify its investment portfolio. Thus, Chinese investments after the financial crisis started to expand in information technology, the entertainment industry, and finance. There were several variables that also mattered to this broader macroeconomic trend: the falling rate of profitability and shift of the Chinese economy from export manufacturing to consumption, the steady growth of the Philippine economy, and Arroyo and Aquino III’s institutional reforms. Another way of putting it is that the economic relations and motivations between Filipino and Chinese citizens, perceived improved Philippine economy during the Aquino III administration, and inertia of economic reforms since the 1990s accounted for the rise of Chinese FDI.

Nonetheless, Aquino III’s conflictual relations with China in the West Philippine Sea and his somewhat negative treatment of some Chinese investments affected potential investments. In truth, one can argue that Chinese investments increased not because, but in spite, of Aquino’s policies. 

Far bigger under Duterte

Duterte’s pivot to China, though, clearly led to the massive rise in the annual number of new firms with Chinese investments. As the data show, the number of firms with Chinese FDI increased by leaps and bounds under Duterte, jumping from around 500 to 600 during Aquino to 1,257 in 2017. 

These increases across presidents can be seen in aggregate via the Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas dataset, which shows that during the Aquino III administration (2010 Q3-2016 Q2), China’s FDI inflows amounted to US$51.321 million while that of Hong Kong aggregated to US$1,180.75 million. Similarly, within two years Duterte’s term (2016 Q3-2018 Q3), China’s inflows reached US$ $211 million but those of Hong Kong aggregated to US$984.51 million. While these amounts seem to disappoint, China’s inflows during the second year of the Duterte  administration already make up more than 83 percent of comparable inflows of the entire Aquino III administration and surpassed theentirety of Chinese and Hong Kong investment received under President Gloria Arroyo (US$828 million). 

It is possible that Chinese FDI would have been higher had Aquino reconciled and negotiated with Beijing. By pursuing a middle-ground solution with China about the dispute, Aquino may have been able to acquire Chinese FDI at a higher rate without giving up the South China Sea claim. Similarly, however, there would have been no need for Duterte to give up the legal claim in practice but pursued a different solution. Chinese FDI would have been forthcoming anyway, so long as Beijing perceived the conditions on the ground as beneficial to it. 

How good? How bad?

But how beneficial have Chinese monies been to the Philippines? To be clear about it, Chinese capital is available external capital apart from the conventional financial sources that can be targeted toward critical and strategic economic sectors that can raise the quality of life in the Philippines. 

For instance, Chinese loans and aid can supplement Japanese capital, which has been our largest source of financing for infrastructure apart from Western commercial loans. Chinese foreign investors can put their money in critical sectors that conventional foreign investors see as too costly.

The biggest problem for foreign investors in the Philippines is the lack of infrastructure and the high cost of basic goods, which make labor and operations artificially expensive. While Aquino III managed inflation well and the recent price increase can be attributed to Duterte’s “Build, Build, Build” push compared to other middle-income Southeast Asian states, the average cost of basic goods (such as food, energy, and yes, Internet service) remains high while the quality can be low.  

The Philippines can use Chinese loans and aid to invest in critical sectors, build infrastructure for quality-of-life issues, and keep up with its Southeast Asian neighbors. But these FDIs must be targeted toward carefully managed sectors that could generate jobs and instigate a multiplier effect across industries. For loans, development finance, or aid, these must be carefully managed and targeted toward infrastructure and connectivity-oriented projects. 

The case of KL, Jakarta

My recent fieldwork in Malaysia’s Pahang province and Central Sulawesi in Indonesia reveals that both these countries have been able to strategically channel Chinese FDI toward economically least-developed provinces, generating jobs for thousands and spurring economic growth in the regions. In Pahang, the Malaysia-China Kuantan Industrial Park (MCKIP) produces high-carbon steel and H-shaped steel. The park has a 51-percent investment from the Malaysian Government and 49 percent from Alliance Steel (M) Sdn Bhd, a subsidiary from of Guangxi Beibu Gulf Iron and Steel Co Ltd from China. Strategically located in Malaysia’s eastern seas, this park employs thousands in the area, provides social services in the province, and renders revenue to the government. 

Similarly, the Indonesia Morowali Industrial Park (IMIP) houses multiple investors from Australia, Korea, China, and Indonesia. China’s Tsingshan Holding Group and Indonesia’s PT Bintang Delapan, the main investors, created a consortium to mine nickel and process steel in the island. The consortium purchases primary nickel ore from miners across Indonesia and processes the ore within the park. IMIP employs 30,000 local workers, 3,000 temporary Chinese expats, and 10,000 contractual workers. While the park could still be improved, IMIP provides jobs to the greater Morowali area and Sulawesi as a whole, and pays an enormous amount of revenue to the Indonesia government. The consortium has invested in free clinics, which people across Sulawesi can use, built a vocational school to train the locals, and improved infrastructure in the area. Inside the park, there are eight mosques that workers can use during the day.

Pointing to these two examples is not meant to glorify Chinese investments. For sure, in Sulawesi, there are hundreds of artisanal small-scale mining companies owned by Western, Indonesian or Indonesian Chinese, that focus on mineral extraction and disregard the socio-environmental ramifications. At the same time, however, for large-scale mines, there are Chinese and non-Chinese companies in Sulawesi that do not seem as socially-oriented as IMIP. While the Chinese nationality of these firms point to some common processes, such as access to capital markets and Chinese technologies, these examples provide proof that we cannot just subsume the organizational logic, social impact, and behavior of firms using nationality. 

NCR, big cities get bulk

So in the Philippines, where do firms with Chinese FDI open their offices? Figure 2 illustrates the number of firms with Chinese investments across regions in the Philippines, demonstrating that Metro Manila, Central Luzon, Calabarzon, Central Visayas, and the Davao del Sur region received the highest shares.

The dataset shows that 57 percent or 4,445 of the 7,755 firms with Chinese investments are in the National Capital Region, or in the 16 cities of Metro Manila. In these cities, the three major Central Business Districts (CBDs) have the greatest number of firms with Chinese FDI.  Disaggregating the CBDs further, Makati’s Ayala has 79 firms, and Taguig’s Bonifacio Global City showcases 41 firms and Ayala has 59 firms. In Pasig and Mandaluyong area, Ortigas Center has 268 and Eastwood has 71. Makati City, as the nation’s business capital, has 426 of these firms. In Quezon City, the largest city in the Philippines in terms of land area and population size, there are 645 firms, and the Binondo district, the historical Chinese neighborhood, comprise 520 firms.

Chinese investments outside Metro Manila are concentrated in regions where investment promotion agencies (IPAs) exercise jurisdictional prerogative to invite, verify, and approve foreign investments. Foreign investors in the Philippines do not need to primarily go through the Department of Trade and Industry’s (DTI) Board of Investments (BOI), which receives foreign investment applications across the country in non-IPA administered zones. The Philippine Economic Zone Authority (PEZA) manages all the special economic zones (SEZs) that give economic incentives, tax holidays, and exemption from certain laws to firms with a substantial share of foreign investments. 

There are several examples of IPAs that stand out for Chinese FDI. The Clark Economic Zone Authority (CEZA) and Subic Metropolitan Authority (SBMA) located in former U.S. military bases in Central Luzon have become major industrial zones for electronic-chip assembly. Apart from these two, smaller SEZs across Cavite and Laguna have become major conduits of manufacturing or chip-assembly factories for foreign capital. 

Which sectors in the Philippines have the greatest number of Chinese firms? Figure 3 shows the number of firms with Chinese investments across sectors. The dataset shows that the top five sectors in terms of Chinese investments are wholesale and retail, business activities, real estate, light manufacturing, and financial holdings.

While SEZs in Central Luzon, Calabarzon, and Davao del Sur comprise light manufacturing, all of the other sectors typically operate outside of the SEZs. Substantial amounts of Chinese investments can be found in wholesale and retail, and targeted toward the domestic market. Wholesale and retail are conventionally dominated by middle- and upper middle-class businessmen, local firms with ties to domestic elites, and small-and-medium enterprises that sell food items, clothing, motor vehicles, and all sorts of necessities to Filipinos. Business activities, which consist of services and auxiliary activities, are the second most targeted sector. Both sectors are also prime targets of espionage from security services since it is not difficult to set up fronts for these organizations. 

Gambling top drawer now

Since Duterte assumed the presidency, however, real-estate companies, tours, hotels, and entertainment, as well as services across Metro Manila, Cebu, and major Philippine cities have received the most amount of Chinese FDI, after wholesale and retail. Offshore gambling, small hotels, and resorts have reportedly been acquired to target the broader Chinese consumption class and tourists. This shows that apart from the major real-estate companies of the Sys, Ayalas, and Villars, smaller business elites with the help of Chinese investments also participate in the expansion of land, housing, and real estate. Many of the offshore gambling firms, which started in the SEZs, have relocated to the cities and belong to these three categories. 

The biggest recipient of Chinese FDIs in the Philippines these days is the online or offshore gambling industry. This sector, however, does not largely benefit Filipinos and has spurred unintended socioeconomic spillovers. Still, banning the sector would be too harsh because of the positive economic multiplier that the sector provides to the construction and real estate industry. The better alternative seems to be to directly tax and regulate the offshore gambling sector. 

Some observers have said that Chinese FDI and aid are debt-inducing, corrosive, or simply dangerous. Yet, these criticisms simply do not look at the statistical evidence that Chinese FDI and aid have generated positive economic growth across the world. Other observers have said as well that we can simply rely on Japan due to the low interest rates and due diligence of the Japanese. But the Japanese agencies cannot fund everything because of limits on their end. More importantly, in some situations, Japanese projects are simply more expensive than the Chinese. Japanese companies are also not as aggressive as Chinese companies. Japan has been investing and sending aid to the Philippines since the 1950s. Similarly, the Philippines has been actively and seeking Japanese aid. And yet, results show that project completion and targeting have been slow, resulting in the rollover of one project to another, and that our economy has remained stagnant. 

Japanese investors are well-connected and know how to play Philippine politics. As such, they would not invest in financially and politically risky yet economically important sectors that could generate growth. The Chinese would do that, but the key is to have a strong host state coalition that can renegotiate with China and investors.

Many small M&As

There is no doubt that Chinese FDIs have been expanding in the Philippines since the Arroyo administration. But these have been far smaller mergers and acquisitions that do not generate the same effects as a large-scale investment. A few deals involve bigger Chinese investments in  joint ventures with Philippine National Corporations, which do not really generate new jobs for Filipinos. These investments may have contributed to growth, but their real impact has been to  allow Philippine large and small capital to diversify their funders and invest elsewhere. 

For Chinese aid and financing, Duterte could have done better in two ways. 

First, Duterte could have leveraged his “newfound” friendship with China to acquire better deals. Recent reports on the Philippines’ contractual obligations on the approved deals, such as commodity-base payments and China-driven arbitration, have spurred intense domestic opposition against these projects. 

Comparatively, these projects are not terrible per se; rather, they are comparable to many BRI (Belt and Road Initiative, a Beijing brainchild that is supposed to improve relations with other countries through infrastructure projects) and non-BRI Chinese projects across the world. But these issues could have been prevented had the Duterte government bargained for better terms. Indonesian President Joko Widodo’s Jakarta-Bandung High-Speed Railway Project, which has generous terms, demonstrates that China can be flexible. (Malaysia’s Kuantan and Indonesia’s Morowali industrial parks in Malaysia and Indonesia have become the models for the newly planned Mindanao steel plant and the Chinese-Ayala industrial park in Central Luzon. Unlike mergers, offshore gambling, or real estate, these plans appear to target productive sectors of the economy, generate revenues, and create jobs for Filipinos. The state and civil society, however, need to limit the possible socio-environmental consequences of these projects.)

Second, the Duterte government could have used BRI to fund new projects rather than choose ones that already had a slated budget. At the start of Duterte’s term, Philippine funding for the Kaliwa Dam and the Chico River Pump finally became available. Yet, the Duterte government canceled the PPP financing of these projects, opting to instead for BRI financing, which delayed the implementation process.

Current events point to forthcoming major projects with China money, even as the SEC’s firm-registration data confirm that the number of Chinese companies in the Philippines has already surged during the first three years of Rodrigo Duterte’s administration. Given these, academics and the press should stop focusing on whether or not Chinese foreign capital has increased in the Philippines. Rather, the focus should be on the developmental quality of the investments, who benefits and who loses, and the compliance of foreign capital to Philippine national laws. – PCIJ, May 2019 

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*Alvin Camba is a China Initiative Fellow at the Global Development Policy Center and a Ph.D. Candidate at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland. He works on the political economy of Chinese foreign capital and elite theory. His works can be found at alvincamba.com.

In the bustling offshore gambling industry in the Philippines today, a conservative estimate of 100,000 people work. About 90 percent of them are mainland Chinese. In this interview, a Chinese customer service worker talks about how and why they came to the Philippines; their living and working conditions; incidents of misbehavior; and how the shops run and raise revenues from operations.

THE SUDDEN surge of offshore gambling firms during Duterte is not surprising. In the 1980s, the widespread inefficiency of and rent-seeking in Philippine government-owned and controlled corporations (GOOCs) limited state investment on public goods that could have reduced the cost of investing, such as energy, transportation, and telecommunications. For foreign investors, these decisions made investing in manufacturing and other productive sectors costlier in the Philippines than that of other comparable developing countries. To deal with these constraints, the Philippine government instituted new laws to attract service sector Business Process Outsourcing (BPOs) investments in the early 2000s. BPOs expediently began to employ millions of Filipinos, contribute billions of dollars to revenues, and generate forward-backward linkages across sectors.  

One of the reasons why BPOs became successful was it did not compete with existing domestic businesses. Most BPO investments were offshoots of U.S. firms, which relocated their services and more labor-intensive, low-value operations in Asia. Successful foreign investments from other countries also concentrate their capital in specific sectors that do not compete with domestic businesses or provide crucial external markets to domestic businesses, such as the extractive sector for Canadians and Australians, or chip assembly for the Japanese. 

Since the Duterte administration, Philippines has become the predominant home for Chinese offshore gambling investments because of cheap real estate, a booming service sector, and the state’s autonomy from Beijing. Offshore gambling originated during Joseph Estrada’s brief term as president, reemerged throughout the Benigno S. Aquino III presidency, and now has surged since Rodrigo R. Duterte took power. Similar to BPOs, Chinese offshore gambling firms target the external market, which do not threaten Philippine businesses, and instead present an additional opportunity to earn.

Offshore gambling is a booming sector because of three things. First, customers are located not only in China, but also in the ‘greater China’ area of Singapore, Hong Kong, and Taiwan. There are also reports that the Chinese across the United States and Europe avail of these services. It would be a mistake to put the blame on investors from China or Macau alone. A careful analysis of companies shows that investors come from China, Macau, and Taiwan. The workforce comprises labor from China, division heads from Malaysia, and management from Taiwan. 

Second, all of these states have experienced some degree of social mobility and the emergence of the “new rich,” which means that there is surplus money that can be used. Among these states, the People’s Republic of China provides the most customers due to its massive population and the legal ramifications on gambling. And finally, Hong Kong and Macau’s offshore gambling firms were increasingly pushed out by Beijing in 2016. Because offshore gambling has also been a venue for laundering money out of China, which has led to the outflow of U.S. dollars, Beijing has begun to implement tighter regulations on the industry. 

These three reasons coincided with a major change in Philippine regulations in offshore gambling. Specifically, the Philippine Amusement and Gaming Corporation or PACGOR, as a GOCC, has the power to sell licenses to offshore or online gambling companies. In the early 2000s, the Philippine private company PhilWeb signed a 13-year contract with PACGOR to sell these licenses outside the special economic zones. It was a monopoly for PhilWeb. But this was not maximized because of the company’s unwillingness to sell to the Chinese offshore gambling firms and its commitment to a business market that targeted Filipino gamblers. Since firms close to the Duterte administration realized that there was money to be made, Philweb’s contract was not renewed. PAGCOR then regained its powers to sell licenses, leading to an open market for offshore gambling firms and the uptick of Chinese business activities and services in the dataset. This move would not have been possible earlier because of PhilWeb’s close links with the Aquino administration and the possibility of a long legal battle at the Supreme Court. 

Offshore gambling companies are very low maintenance. Unlike Western BPOs, they can set up shop anywhere so long as they have computers and Internet connection. Functions of online gambling include customer service, which entails talking to customers about the firm’s products, services, and games. This is similar to how Filipino call-center workers talk to U.S. mobile phone owners halfway across the world in order to deal with processing refund, hotel reservations, and other issues. 

Some companies reportedly use customer service not only to deal with online gambling concerns, but also to provide service to Chinese companies that need to deal with consumers from China. There is a division on marketing, which targets the email addresses and home numbers of Chinese populations across the world, in order to induce them into playing. A gaming division exists, which comprises the Chinese workers pretending to be players in the game to induce players into playing more. A research and technology division creates new research and programs new apps. Some companies also have training divisions, which serve to train the outfit’s new workers.   

At present, the offshore gambling industry in the Philippines has a conservative estimate of 100,000 people as its workforce. About 90 percent of this workforce are mainland Chinese. Some common assumptions about these Chinese workers are that they are stealing jobs from Filipinos while taking advantage of the country’s social services, and that they lack manners. 

In November 2018, my research assistant and I had a chance to sit down and talk with a Chinese migrant worker in Mall of Asia. The worker is part of the customer service section in an offshore gambling outfit. The interview was done in Chinese and English. The following are excerpts from that conversation.

AC: So what can you tell me about yourself before coming to the Philippines?

CW: I grew up in Guizhou province, in Zhenyuan (镇远县 ) county. Most of the people in the prefecture belonged to Miao and Dong minority groups. We, the Han people, are the minority in that prefecture. My family has been there for generations, but my Dad was originally from Hunan, and my mom from Guanxi province. My parents were both merchants in the city, and we had a stall when I was growing up. The stall sold food slow-cooked in an iron pan, which was the specialty of the country. Tourists from the other provinces go to the county to visit the local scenery: The Black Dragon Cave and Wuyang River Scenic Area. My town was beautiful, but it was increasingly becoming more difficult (to live there). Richer Chinese from nearby provinces have started to purchase land to create small hotels and big condominiums, driving up the price of living there. 

AC: Why did you decide to come to the Philippines? Why work in the gambling firm?

CW: I finished a two-year trade school that emphasized business skills. At that time, my options were to leave for the bigger cities and work for the government or companies. I left to work in Shanghai for six months as a receptionist in one of the hotels. The conditions were difficult: we had to work 12 to 14 hours a day, the salary was low, and the rent was high. I was barely saving anything, let alone able to send money to my parents. Since the contracts were not permanent, I had to be renewed every two months just to work. From there, I met a recruiter who was looking for workers in the online casinos. 

There were different options at that time: Cambodia, Malaysia, Laos, Thailand, and the Philippines. The Philippines was their newest destination and offered the most amount of pay — US$2,800  (a month) — and they take care of lodging, parts of the living expenses, and migration. Cambodia and Laos were not enticing options. The demand for labor was not as high in Malaysia and Thailand. My parents were fine with the situation and understood that I needed to make money. I submitted my papers to the recruiter and came here in early 2017.

AC: How did you arrive in the Philippines? What was the route like?

CW:It’s a model that they employ when coming here. As far as I know, there are six to seven different ways. But from my experience, me and my co-workers traveled to Guangzhou and took a cheap, low-budget flight to Changi in Singapore. From there, we took a connecting flight to Angeles City in Pampanga. Immigration was rather easy. We were part of a tour group that was processed by the company way before. And Angeles City airport was full of tourist groups that were coming to the Philippines. There were mostly Koreans there. From there, we took a bus to Manila, and I remember that it was a two- to three-hour ride in the morning. 

AC: What was your impression of Manila like? Or Angeles?

CW:Metro Manila reminds me a lot of Beijing without the transportation system. The traffic is worse in Beijing and you can get stuck in the roads for hours. Metro Manila seems to have a lot of small vehicles used for transportation, such as jeepneys, tricycles, and vans. Beijing and Metro Manila differ in two respects: (1) pollution is not as bad here and moving around in Manila is possible in early morning or sometimes at night; (2) it’s dangerous to move around here and crime seems to be high. In China, the government has been able to keep peace and punish criminals harshly. Here, I have never experienced any theft or robbery, but some of our Filipino staff members and Chinese workers were robbed by Filipino criminals.

In our company, it is often emphasized that we stick together when moving around Manila. We are discouraged to go to the provinces or areas that we do not know of because of the theft and the threat of criminal gangs. It is also said that we should not trust the police since many of them are involved in these robberies.

I was in Angeles City only for a day, but we stayed in this small house that was owned by a Korean who had ties to the company. It felt to me that the Koreans own Angeles City: they had buildings, restaurants, houses, and etc. Some of my Chinese coworkers were offered the opportunity to work in one of those Korean nightclubs that’s exclusive to Koreans. In fact, I remember distinctly that this Korean lady who owned the house emphasized that we don’t have to deal with the Filipinos who were the support staff or workers of the company. We only have to deal with Korean and white men, who had money and were willing to pay. Some of the Chinese migrants decided to stay there and the Koreans had to pay for their bond and their replacements.

AC: What are working conditions like? What are the pros and cons of working there?

CW:When we got there, we had to give up our passports and we were given our company identification cards instead to use around the city. We were told to process the social security and apply for the temporary work permit (Alien Employment Certificate). What my co-workers and I did not know is that our payment of US$2800 is reduced to US$648 a month. Part of the payment is used for the lodging expenses, the materials we get for necessities (laundry, food supplies, etc.) and also for the Philippine government taxes. 

We work six times a week, around 12 hours a day. Our salaries are fixed for that 12 hours, but we can get paid more especially when there is a demand for overtime. Some workers also need to work every day since they borrowed money from the company to pay for some expenses in China. There are also penalties on our salary if we break the rules, such as getting in trouble with the locals or the police, traveling to other provinces or cities outside Metro Manila, or bringing locals to the office. It is very difficult since we have to be up at four or five in the morning to get ready for the six a.m. shift. After waking up and preparing, some of us take the company vehicle to other parts of the city. But for customer service, we only stay in the building and move to another floor when it’s time. For my co-workers, they need to be on the road at five in the morning. Those who are late often get a penalty fee that will be taken out of next month’s salary. There were also rules on misconduct and other related offenses. There was another team in charge of the six p.m. to six a.m. shift.

We go to Mall of Asia or Binondo on Sundays. Some of us have Monday as our free day. We enjoy eating at restaurants, watching movies, or just walking around the mall. Most of us go to Mall of Asia since the commuting is a lot easier with direct transportation from our office. But it has been very crowded. 

AC: What is your daily routine like?

CW:I wake up at five a.m. in the morning to prepare for work. Our rooms remind me of Chinese dorms: we stay with four to five roommates, share a common bathroom and kitchen, and do the laundry in a central area. We get to know our workmates as well, share our concerns and origins, and strategies for coping. We also wake up very early to get ready for the six a.m. to six p.m. shift. Those who will need to work in other buildings often get up earlier. Many of us take a bath at night rather than the morning, but we do make sure to go to the bathroom or brush our teeth. There is another shift that gets around at eight a.m.     

There are floors for men and women in the living accommodations. Our key cards only work at certain floors, there are cameras at every floor, and penalties for misdemeanor.

AC: What kind of misdemeanors?

CW: They involve stealing another person’s property, sexual activities, making a mess of the place, drinking in the rooms. 

Sexual activities are more common. Since there are men and women working for the company, they sometimes go in romantic relationships or even just one-night stands. One of my friends got caught and they were fined US$50 each, which was taken out of their next month’s salary. Sometimes, they don’t financially fine you, but you need to do labor for the company, such as cleaning the toilets, doing extra hours, or doing laundry. 

AC: Are you provided food or other necessities?

CW: We buy food from the local canteen, which is a company-owned chain with other investors. They also sell water, basic necessities (coffee, toiletries, and etc.). There is a small gym as well, a clinic, and legal services in the building. We pay them via WeChat, or it’s deducted through our monthly pay.

AC: Are payments in WeChat?

CW: The company automatically deducts a part of our expenses. Our payment can be in Philippine pesos or in yuan, and we are given a choice on how much to allocate to which currency. We often do not need Philippine pesos unless we plan to go shopping or travel in Metro Manila. I earn about US$600 a month. I save US$300 in RMB in my Chinese bank account and get the other half in Philippine pesos.

AC: How many people are in the office? What are offices like?

CW:The offices are small cubicles with around 60 to 70 people per office. There are three to four offices or departments on every floor, which deal with targeted marketing, customer service, online gaming, accounting, financial services, and long-term subscription. There is also the technological or app-development sector, and training facilities for new employees. Different companies have different models. In my company, we operate in different buildings. Customer service sections are often in the buildings where the accommodations for workers are located. App-development sections are often located to the richer parts of Metro Manila, such as Makati City and Bonifacio Global Center. These app-development divisions do not just do work for the gambling services but numerous other third-party outsourcing as well, such as financial services, consumer technology, and marketing. There are almost 1,000 employees in our building. I’m not sure how many there are in the company. 

AC: Which division are you based in?

CW:I have been with customer service for a long time. I take so many calls every day from different parts of the world and often deal with complaints about our apps. I liaison the complaints with the accounting division for the reimbursement of specific expenses or deny their request when it’s doubtful. We get Chinese customers from all over the world, such as China, Hong Kong, Malaysia, the United States, and even Africa. I do want to do marketing soon, or even accounting. But promotions are often difficult and really hard to come by. We often need to work for a few years before we get promoted. 

I never learned how to program, but I’ve been wanting to since programmers get paid a lot. I think they get paid twice the amount of a normal employee, while others receive higher levels of payment. Customer service or relations get paid the least.

AC: Are these co-workers from mainland China? What about the Filipino staff members?

CW:There are also Filipino shareholders of the company and their staff members make sure we get around the city well, and that we don’t get in trouble. They are in charge of making sure the building regulations and employment follow the minimum legal procedures. They often liaise with the local government and the police to resolve legal matters. We often have a number we can call to make sure that if any of us gets in trouble, we would call the person in charge to help us out. 

One of my guy friends got in trouble for a fight in one of the local bars in Manila City. The police got involved and held my friend, and the person in charge came to resolve the issue. They ended up resolving the matter, which would mean that my friend’s debt to the company increased just because of the fight. 

Some of their staff members sell ID cards that we can use to save the commuting trip. I did not get those since I don’t want to get in trouble, but many of the Chinese workers have to save money from commuting. 

AC: How long do you plan to remain in the Philippines?

CW:I am honestly not sure. I need to pay off my debt to the company and they promised me that they will return me to China without the government filing charges against me. A few of my fellow workers have been caught by the Philippine police and sent to be extradited to China. Many of the workers have been caught, but they ended up paying the police with their savings and the charges are dropped afterwards. It seems to me that corruption in the Philippine police runs rampantly and it does not seem to work for the country well.

I understand that our presence in the Philippines has been a problem. The Philippines is struggling to develop, and it reminds me a lot of Chinese cities with rampant inequality among the rich and the poor. But the company has withheld my passport and I owe them a lot for bringing me here. I need to pay them back a portion of the salary and the living expenses along with it, which means that I will be here for two more years at the minimum. I heard from the experience of those who have worked in Cambodia that the company helps them travel and settle in their home country after paying back the debt. Some even stay for four to five years in those countries. But the Chinese government rarely pursues charges against us after we leave the country where we worked in.

AC: How has your experience with Filipinos been like?

CW:Filipinos are generally nice. I have made friends with the staff of the restaurant, the cleaning crew, and the administrative officers of our building. I understand that in the morning, when we get picked up in our company vehicle, that Filipinos have a hard time commuting because of the public transportation system’s problems. I have visited a couple of my Filipino friends and their families. It reminds me of the family-oriented nature of Chinese families and how we struggle to keep ourselves happy. 

The Filipinos I have dealt with are the ones in the malls or people we talk to in the restaurant. They are often very generous and nice to us, so I don’t see a problem with Filipinos. The Chinese-Filipinos are different, and I have spoke with some of them in Binondo. They often separate themselves from us and don’t really want to relate. They also don’t speak Chinese and seem to be just interested in doing business or using us to make connections back in China.

Filipino food is also too sweet and has a lot of pork. I do enjoy Jollibee a lot but my coworkers don’t like it because it’s too bland. I wish for better relations between the Philippines and China. We are all honestly trying to survive in this world. – PCIJ, May 2019

• ALVIN A. CAMBA is a China Initiative Fellow at the Global Development Policy Center and a Ph.D. Candidate at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland. He works on the political economy of Chinese foreign capital and elite theory. His works can be found at alvincamba.com

Front-runners, cliff-hangers, or tail-enders, candidates for senator who come from political clans with deep pockets or rich backers have dominated the air war for votes. The top seven spenders have chalked up adspend valued at PhP2.28 billion, by the published rate cards of media. This is 60 percent of the total PhP3.77-billion adspend bill that 32 of the 62 candidates for senator had incurred in just the first 78 days of the campaign.

WHILE election laws seeking to ensure equal opportunity among candidates are in place, much of the airtime and print-ad space in this year’s campaign still ended up getting dominated by the usual suspects: incumbents and members of political families who either have deep pockets or a slew of rich backers.

The amounts recorded by media-monitoring agency Nielsen as being spent on political ads from just 11 weeks of campaigning are staggering. In fact, if Nielsen’s data were to be used to audit candidates’ advertising expenditure, by the published rate cards of media agencies, at least seven senatorial candidates — one from the Otso Diretso slate of the Liberal Party and the rest from the administration-backed Hugpong ng Pagbabago — would already be in trouble with the Commission on Elections (Comelec) for apparent overspending.

Nielsen data show that returning Senate bet Manuel ‘Mar’ Roxas II; incumbents Cynthia Villar, Juan Edgardo ‘Sonny’ Angara, and Joseph Victor ‘JV’ Ejercito; and first-time senatorial candidates Francis Tolentino, Imee Marcos, and Christopher ‘Bong’ Go have acquired political ads that, before allowable discounts, are estimated to cost more than their individual expenditure limits. 

Ground-war costs

But even if the 30- to 50-percent discounts allowed by election laws for TV ads were deducted from their adspend values, these seven candidates would still appear to be in danger zone: They had separately and together used up from 60 to 90 percent of their expenditure limits mostly on  TV and radio ads alone.

With very little or no amounts left for them to spend, by law, it would be hard to explain how they could have financed other costly on-ground campaign expenses, including  transportation to and from campaign sorties, the production and distribution of campaign tarpaulins and flyers, the meals and services of their campaign teams, among others.

The adspend values that PCIJ reviewed for this story cover only the political ads that the candidates had incurred, according to Nielsen media’s monitoring, for the period from Feb. 12 to April 30, 2019 for TV and from Feb. 12 to March 31, 2019 for radio and print. This report focuses on the adspend values of the candidates for senator in the first 78 days or the 90-day official campaign period for national candidates.

To be sure, however, the last 12 days of the campaign this May have seen and will see even more pervasive TV advertising invariably by most of the 62 candidates for senator, whether front-runners, cliff-hangers, or tail-enders.  

The official campaign period for the upcoming midterm elections began last February 12 and will end on May 11, 2019.

Caps in law

Current election laws allow candidates affiliated with a political party to each spend a maximum of PhP3 per registered voter in their respective constituency. Those not getting any help from a political party meanwhile are each allowed to spend up to PhP5 per registered vote. Political parties and party-list groups are each allowed a maximum of PhP5 per registered voter.

For the May 13, 2019 elections, the number of registered voters reached 63,665,923, including 1,822,173 Filipino voters overseas. This means that candidates with a political party may spend only up to PhP190.9 million each while independent candidates would have to stop spending once they each reach PhP318.3 million. The spending cap for political parties and party-list groups is also pegged at PhP318.3 million each. 

Roxas (Liberal Party) tops the ad-spender list based on Nielsen data, with PhP463.4 million worth of ads placed on TV, radio, and print from February 12 to April 30, 2019 alone. This figure, which is more than double his limit, has yet to include other expenses typically incurred during the campaign. 

Also apparently having a similarly thick wallet is re-electionist Cynthia Villar (Nacionalista Party) whose ad spending reached PhP400 million during the same period. 

Roxas and Villar are among the country’s wealthiest politicians. As of her 2017 Statement of Assets, Liabilities, and Net Worth (SALN), the declared net worth of Villar – wife of real-estate tycoon Manuel Villar — reached PhP3.6 billion. By comparison, Roxas declared a decidedly much lower net worth in the last SALN he filed that is in PCIJ’s records, which was in 2014: PhP202.1 million, or not even half of what he has spent so far on campaign ads. A member of the landed Araneta clan, Roxas has been out of public office since 2016.  His last public post was as Secretary of the Interior and Local Government in the Aquino III administration. 

Not rich but big spenders

Like Roxas, the rest of the campaign-ad big spenders have declared net worths that are far lower than their current spending on their campaign ads. For instance, Francis Tolentino (PDP-Laban), President Rodrigo Duterte’s former point man for disaster response, has already incurred PhP333.1 million in ad spending, but has a net worth of only PhP69.4 million, based on his latest available SALN for 2017.

Re-electionist Sonny Angara (Laban ng Demokratikong Pilipino) meanwhile has PhP308 million worth of ad spending, but a net worth of P131 million only. Some of Angara’s ads, however, were supposedly paid for by his party.

Next in line based on ad-spending values are re-electionist JV Ejercito with PhP295.6 million, Ilocos Norte Governor Imee Marcos with PhP266.4 million, and former Special Assistant to the President Bong Go with PhP213.8 million. 

All three have net worths well below their ad spending; Go even declared only PhP12.8 million in his latest SALN, or just six percent of what he has forked out for ads during the official campaign period. 

On their own

In theory, a senatorial candidate could have as much as PhP509.3 million should his or her political party decide to dedicate all its campaign funds solely for the candidate’s campaign. But a scan of Nielsen’s reports does not show many political parties spending for their individual candidates. Nearly all of the seven top ad spenders appear to have paid for their own ads as indicated in the end tags required for every ad aired or printed. 

Comelec Resolution No. 10488 requires political advertisements to bear the words “political advertisement paid for,” followed by the true and correct name and address of the candidate or party for whose benefit the election propaganda was printed or aired, and the tag “political advertisement paid by,” followed by the true and correct name and address of the payor.

Nielsen data include a “Version” data field that shows the title of the ad aired or published and when available the “paid for” and “paid by” tags. Of the seven top ad spenders, however, only Angara had ads that were paid by his party. The ads of the rest were either paid for by the candidates themselves or had no tag that was identified by Nielsen’s monitoring staff.

It is also possible that some of these candidates received large donations, which they would then have to declare after the elections.  

The combined ad spending of these seven candidates already makes up 60 percent or PhP2.28 billion of the total PhP3.77 billion worth of political ads – by the published rate cards of media agencies – since last February 12 for those aiming to become senator. This figure plus the ad bills of the rest of the top 15 big ad spenders amount to PhP3.42 billion, or 90 percent of the total advertising bought by senatorial wanna-bes for the period. 

Top spenders, too

Aside from the seven, those who made it to the top 15 ad spenders are either incumbents like Jose ‘Jinggoy’ Estrada, Paolo Benigno ‘Bam’ Aquino IV, Grace Poe, Aquilino ‘Koko’ Pimentel III, or those who had held a senate seat before, like Sergio Osmena III, Juan Ponce Enrile, Ramon ‘Bong’ Revilla Jr., and Pia Cayetano.

Candidates high on the Nielsen list of ad spenders include some senatorial hopefuls who had also poured in millions of pesos in pre-campaign ads. 

From Jan. 1, 2018 to Feb. 11, 2019, 34 candidates were featured in pre-campaign ads worth a total of PhP3.08 billion. Bong Go, Mar Roxas, and Imee Marcos, for instance, appeared in ads worth PhP606.4 million, PhP590.4 million, and PhP461.8 million, respectively. PCIJ in a recent report found that those with the lowest net worth are among the biggest spenders on pre-campaign ads, raising questions on where these candidates got the money to pay for the ads. 

Among the cellar dwellers in ad spending meanwhile are Rafael Alunan III (Bagumbayan Volunteers for a New Philippines), Neri Colmenares (Makabayang Koalisyon ng Mamamayan), Willie Ong (Lakas Christian Muslim Democrats), Romulo Macalintal (Independent), Lito Lapid (Nationalist People’s Coalition), Rodrigo ‘Jiggy’ Manicad Jr. (Independent), Jose ‘Chel’ Diokno (Liberal Party), and Lorenzo ‘Erin’ Tanada III (Liberal Party). Each has a total ad spend that has yet to breach PhP20 million. (See Table)

Nielsen did not record any individual advertisement for some candidates like Florin ‘Pilo’ Hilbay and Samira Gutoc, both of LP’s Otso Diretso. 

Parties, TV programs

Among the parties, LP’s Otso Diretso emerged as the top advertiser. It incurred more than PhP111 million in ad placements, with various advertisements featuring all its eight members, as well as some that focused only on either Chel Diokno or Gary Alejano.

Otso Diretso is followed by Cibac Party List (Citizens’ Battle Against Corruption), ACT-CIS Party List (Anti-Crime and Terrorism through Community Involvement and Support), and Ako Bicol Party List with PhP99.3 million, PhP76.4 million, and PhP74.1 million ad spends, respectively. A total of 36 parties bought ads during the campaign period worth PhP522.8 million all in all.

By TV network, candidates and parties placed the most number of ads in the two media giants ABS-CBN 2 and GMA 7, whose tills rang up PhP2.2 billion and PhP1.5 billion, respectively. 

“FPJ’s Ang Probinsyano,” “24 Oras,” “TV Patrol,” and “The General’s Daughter” meanwhile are among the most popular programs for political ad spots.

Nielsen data are based on published rate cards that may or may notreflect the actual amount paid by candidates and parties. This isbecause Republic Act No. 9006 or the Fair Elections Act requires mediaoutlets to provide a discounted rate for election propaganda such as
political ads. 

Discounts old, new

For ads published from Feb. 12 to April 5, the original discounts — 30 percent for TV, 20 percent for radio, and 10 percentfor print – should have been applied over the average rates during thefirst three quarters of the calendar year preceding the elections.

Beginning April 6, however, new discount rates took effect after amendments were made in a law that filed past the House of Representatives and the Senate in a rush – from public hearings in July 2018 to ratification in February 2019. The bigger discount rates are under Republic Act No. 11207, which was signed into law by President Rodrigo R. Duterte only on Feb. 14, 2019.

Six weeks later, Comelec Resolution No. 10517 dated March 29, 2019 directed media outlets to provide a 50-percent discount on TV ads and 40 percent on radio ads. The discount for political ads in print was unchanged at 10 percent. Comelec has said that the discounts will be computed based on the average published rates of a media outlet in the last three years prior to theelections.

Another Comelec issuance, Resolution No. 10488, meanwhile imposed a cap on the duration of airtime that a candidate or party may use for political ads. Candidates and parties for a national elective position like senatorial bets and party-list groups may only use up to 120 minutes of TV advertising per channel and up to 180 minutes of radio advertising per station. (The airtime cap prior to the 2013 elections used to be aggregate by medium and not by channel.)

Airtime limits

As of April 30, 2019 for TV ads, and as of March 31 for radio ads, none of the candidates and party-list groups monitored by Nielsen has reached the limits prescribed for these mediums. Using up the maximum airtime would mean more spending. It could also run the risk of overspending. 

For instance, consuming 180 minutes of political ads on ABS-CBN’s primetime show “Ang Probinsyano” would cost a total of PhP512.8 million. A 30-second ad placed in the popular action-drama series costs PhP1.42 million, according to Nielsen data.

In both TV and radio, Roxas again tops the lists, placing minutes across various channels and radio stations.

The published rate cards of media agencies are pegged on the timeslot and ratings of primetime and non-primetime programs. By industry practice, the higher a program’s rating, advertisers will have to pay more for a 15-second, 30-second, and one-minute ad spot.

Prime, non-prime rates

Indeed, across the years, advertising rates for television has increased from three to 10 percent on average, year on year. 

In 2013, an agency report disclosed that a 30-second ad on primetime on ABS-CBN reported cost PhP824,374; on GMA-7, PhP695,500; and on TV5, PhP444,000. Agency discounts are given, but typically to media houses and depending on the frequency or volume of their ad placements.

In August 2018, at the Senate hearing on the then proposed bigger discounts for political ads, the top two networks had disclosed ad rates that were much bigger than ever. 

ABS-CBN revealed that its 30-second ad on non-primetime was already worth PhP900,000, and on primetime, PhP1.4 million. This reflected an increase of PhP575,626 from its primetime rate for 30-second ads in 2013, or just five years earlier. 

For its part, GMA-7 told the Senate that its 30-second ad on non-primetime was worth PhP299,000, and on primetime, PhP500,000. Curiously, this reflects a reduction by PhP195,500 from its primetime rate for 30-second ads in 2013.

Media entities are required to submit a certification to Comelec through the Campaign Finance Office that discounted rates were applied in the political ads bought by candidates and parties.

A lot more expenses

Even if discounts are applied, though, the way the numbers look now point to spending that is very much on the high side because other expenses have yet to be included. Some of these are:

• Travel expenses of candidate and campaign personnel during the campaign and incidental personal expenses;
• Compensation of campaigners, clerks, stenographers, messengers, and other persons employed in the campaign;      
• Telephone, mobile phone usage fees, prepaid phone load, Internet access, postages, freight and courier charges;       
• Stationery, printing, and distribution of printed materials relative to candidacy;                        
• Employment of watchers at the polls;
• Rent, maintenance, and furnishing of campaign headquarters, office or place of meetings; and
• Political meetings and rallies, and the use of sound systems, lights, and decorations during meetings and rallies.

All these would have to be accounted for in the Statement of Election Contribution and Expenditures (SOCE) that all candidates and parties must submit one month after Election Day. Theoretically, these declarations may be verified against the records submitted by media entities and business firms, both of which are required to submit receipts of goods and services they provided during the campaign period. –With infographics by Vino Lucero,  PCIJ, May 2019

IT’S ALREADY a given how Filipinos are such big users of social media, especially Facebook. Last February, PCIJ conducted a social-media audit of what some senatorial candidates in the May 13, 2019 midterm polls were doing online during the pre-campaign period and found that they regarded these as a ‘promotional touchpoint”.

This hasn’t changed much, based on the follow-up scan PCIJ conducted during much of the official campaign period, but what is interesting is that those with the biggest Facebook fanpage sizes aren’t really seeing similar numbers in the surveys conducted by companies like Pulse Asia, nor even in the ongoing count of the votes cast last Monday.

In any case, this social-media overview and Facebook content scan aim to provide the audience a grasp of how the senatorial candidates that emerged as the top 24 in Pulse Asia’s February 2019 nationwide survey made use of social-media between February 12 and April 30. Specifically, who among the candidates included in the set could possibly have more investment and allocation on the digital channel, in terms of monies, time, and effort?

Most of the candidates are from the administration-backed Hugpong ng Pagbabago (HNP) and the Liberal Party’s Otso Diretso. The number of candidates covered by the overview/scan reached 29 because the Pulse Asia Top 24 list had some slots occupied by more than one candidate. As a result, 13 from HNP, eight from Otso Diretso/LP, and eight from other groups or independent candidates are included in this report.

February 12 marked the start of the official campaign period for national and party-list candidates. The campaign period ended May 11. 

The main questions that guided the overview and scan were: Given that the use of social media is practically free yet could help one reach a significant number of potential voters, are these candidates using it responsibly? Who is saying what, and publishing what type of content online, especially on the country’s most browsed social media platform, Facebook?

The team’s takeaways are merely observations based on identified trends, and neither assume nor conclude that the candidates are actually doing such efforts such as, but not limited to, having ‘paid’ supporters/trolls and boosting using advertising monies…unless stated otherwise with supporting data/documents.

The key figures –follower/subscriber base and number of FB posts published –used by the team are the actual data at the time of writing, May 10, 2019. Should there be discrepancies in the key figures after May 10, it is because the pages’ follower/subscriber base have already increased or decreased, and certain FB posts may have been deleted or hidden from the candidate’s timeline.

Part 1 of this report provides the social-media landscape overview and asks who is on which social media platform, and how big are their follower base. It also provides a rundown of the social media assets where 29 midterm election senatorial candidates are active.

Part 2 focuses more on how the candidates used social media for their campaigns. 

 Social Media Landscape Overview

Key findings:

While efforts, strategy, and tactics vary, consistent across all 29 candidates scanned would be their use of Facebook to 1) update constituents and other stakeholders about their on-ground activities and happenings, and 2) to further promote their above-the-line (ATL) materials such as, but not limited to, flyer/poster key visuals and TVCs.

Compared to the pre-campaign period where the candidates were generally more playful in terms of content types and messaging, the candidates during the campaign period appeared to be primarily active on-ground and to be using social media, specifically Facebook, as a medium to inform the publics about their activities and whereabouts (prior to the said engagements) and as a diary or log of sorts (after the events and happenings have taken place), whether in the form of FB Live coverage videos or post-mortem photo albums and video highlights.

Instagram appeared to be a platform where most of the 29 candidates just post for presence and minimal engagement, while YouTube appeared to serve as a repository platform of all their videos that aired on TV, online, and/or those AVP kind of materials that they play during events. Some candidates, like Bam Aquino, started boosting pre-roll YouTube ads during the latter part of the campaign period.

When ranked according to the candidates’ follower count on the perceived official Facebook fan pages used to campaign, however, the survey-leading candidates did not necessarily ome out on top.

Meanwhile, websites appeared to serve merely as a landing page of posts that have a drive-to-site call-to-action, especially when encouraging the audience to “learn more” about the candidate’s advocacy or platform.

(See Table: Candidates: Rank by Survey and By Size of Facebook Fan Page Base)

Then again, because some candidates used their existing Facebook pages for their campaigns, they already had a high follower count prior as compared to the likes of Jose ‘Jinggoy’ Estrada and Ramon ‘Bong’ Revilla Jr. who decided to make use of new FB pages, both prioritizing their campaign branding ‘Anak ng Masa’ and ‘Agimat ng Masa,’ respectively, over the follower base.

In terms of posting frequency during the campaign period covered, three candidates who are neither HNP nor LP posted much more often. Overall, the 29 candidates scanned published an average of 224 FB posts during February 12 to April 30. 

(See Table: Quantity of Posts Published from February 12 to April 30, 2019, Official Campaign Period (as of 05/09/19))

Social-Media Usage

Key findings

From February 12 to April 30, 2019, the 29 candidates included in this scan published an average of 224 posts. Common across all 29 candidates are these types of content:

• Invite posts that are published one to three days prior to the actual event day, encouraging the audience from specific locations to attend the candidate’s speaking engagement or activity;
• Post-event photo album and/or video highlights, supplemented by a caption that gives thanks to everyone who attended the said event, and encouraging them to learn more about the candidate via FB Notes or drive-to-site for more information on the candidates’ respective websites;
• Repurposed key visuals for static or GIF/slideshow posts promoting the candidate’s qualities and platforms, and some past projects and signed bills that he or she can brag about or are proud of, e.g. campaign posters or flyers that are being uploaded on the candidate’s social- media pages.
• Videos that aired on TV or are on their YouTube channels, that the candidate also uploads on Facebook; or the other way around, where some candidates post Facebook content that lead to their mini-video series uploaded on their YouTube channels.

Another interesting use of Facebook during the campaign period was to clarify alleged black ops. LP’s Jose Manuel ‘Chel’ Diokno and Samira Gutoc actively made use of Facebook to release statements regarding allegations and other matters that they deemed worth challenging or countering.

As mentioned in Part 1, it appears that Facebook has generally taken a backseat for most of the candidates, as it served merely as a supplementary platform for candidates to ‘sustain’ their presence after being highly active on-ground and offline. Twitter appeared to be a more frequently used platform, with candidates ‘trend jacking’ (or riding on trending topics) and jumping in conversations of potential voters, as if they, together with their social media teams and volunteers, were closely listening to Twitter conversations that mention them, or their respective groups.

Not included in the scan are detailed notes on the efforts of the candidates and groups’ teams and volunteers. HNP, Otso Diretso, and the other groups and individual candidates have supporters who actively promote their respective bets by way of posting on their own online, whether through their personal social media accounts or fan-made Pages. 

Notable efforts from the ‘CHELdren’ of the ‘Youth for ChelDiokno’ Facebook page, supporters of Bong Go, and the other senatorial bets can be found not just on Facebook, but also on Twitter and websites in the form of long-form blog posts.

Note also that both HNP and OtsoDiretso have their respective Facebook pages that promote their respective bets as a whole or as a group, and some paid posts/videos are promoted using the said platforms.

Now more than ever, intense arguments between citizens who are vocal pro- and anti-Duterte administration can be found especially on Twitter. Hateful — to some extent misleading — memes that are borderline bashing of certain candidates, citizens or netizens are also spreading on social media, and intrusion from a particular candidate have been observed. 

(See Table: Candidates: Rank Based on Growth of Official Facebook Fan Page Size (as of 05/09/19))

Roll of “influencers”

Some candidates have more perceived influencers than others. Some of the influencers have endorsed a lot more candidates than others. This is the case for President Rodrigo R. Duterte, Davao City Mayor Sara Duterte, and some church-based groups that have endorsed multiple candidates of their favored slated. 

From a scan of their social-media accounts, here are the perceived influencers of the candidates:

• GRACE POE: Susan Roces, Vilma Santos, Coco Martin, El Shaddai, Iglesia Ni Cristo (INC), and Catholic Bishops’ Conference of the Philippines (CBCP);

• CYNTHIA VILLAR: President Rodrigo Duterte, Mayor Sara Duterte, Boy Abunda, El Shaddai, Iglesia Ni Cristo (INC),  and Independent Bishops Conference of the Philippines (IBCP); 

• BONG GO: President Duterte, Mayor Sara Duterte, El Shaddai, INC, and IBCP,;

• SONNY ANGARA: President Duterte, Mayor Sara Duterte, El Shaddai, INC, and Sarah Geronimo; 

• LITO LAPID: Coco Martin and INC;

• PIA CAYETANO: President Duterte, Mayor Sara Duterte, INC, and IBCP;

• BATO DELA ROSA: President Duterte, Mayor Sara Duterte, INC, Arci Muñoz, and IBCP;

• NANCY BINAY: Kris Aquino, El Shaddai, INC, and IBCP;

• MAR ROXAS: Vice President Leni Robredo, Leila De Lima, Korina Sanchez, IBCP, CBCP;

• BONG REVILLA: Mayor Sara Duterte, Lani Mercado, Manny Pacquiao, El Shaddai, INC, and IBCP;

• IMEE MARCOS: President Duterte, Mayor Sara Duterte, Bongbong Marcos, INC, and IBCP;

• KOKO PIMENTEL: President Duterte, Mayor Sara Duterte , El Shaddai, and IBCP;

• JINGGOY ESTRADA: Mayor Sara Duterte, Joseph Estrada, El Shaddai, and INC;

• FRANCIS TOLENTINO: President Duterte, Mayor Sara Duterte, El Shaddai, INC, and IBCP;

• BAM AQUINO: VP Leni Robredo, Leila De Lima, Kris Aquino, El Shaddai, IBCP, and CBCP;

• JV EJERCITO: President Duterte, Mayor Sara Duterte, Joseph Estrada, El Shaddai, and IBCP;

• SERGE OSMEÑA; None;

• JUAN PONCE ENRILE: Joseph Estrada; 

• DONG MANGUDADATU: President Duterte and Mayor Sara Duterte,;

• JIGGY MANICAD: Mayor Sara Duterte; 

• NERI COLMENARES: Angel Locsin and CBCP;

• DOC WILLIE ONG, El Shaddai;

• FREDDIE AGUILAR, President Duterte;

• CHEL DIOKNO: VP Leni Robredo, Leila De Lima, Pepe Diokno, Kris Aquino, Pepe Herrera, Jaime Fabregas, Bianca Gonzalez, Enchong Dee, Dingdong Dantes, Bituin Escalante, Ebe Dancel, Bullet Dumas, Johnoy Danao, Janine Gutierrez, Noel Cabangon, Bayang Barrios, and CBCP;

• ROMULO MACALINTAL: VP Leni Robredo, Leila De Lima, Derek Ramsey, Tirso Cruz III, Manny Pacquiao, and CBCP;

• ERIN TAÑADA: VP Leni Robredo, Leila De Lima, and CBCP;

• SAMIRA GUTOC: VP Leni Robredo, Leila De Lima, and CBCP; 

• GARY ALEJANO: VP Leni Robredo, Leila De Lima, and CBCP; and 

• FLORIN HILBAY: VP Leni Robredo, Leila De Lima, Agot Isidro, Vico Sotto, and CBCP.  – PCIJ, May 2019

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GUIDE TO TERMINOLOGY

• Post

A material published on someone’s Facebook page, whether in the form of a static post, GIF/slideshow, video, long-form note, or text status.

• Engagement

The response a post receives from the audience: Like/Reaction, Comment, and Share or Retweet.

• Total Engagement

The sum of all the Likes/Reactions, Comments, and Shares or Retweets a post receives.

• Average Engagement Per Post

The average number of engagement a particular set of posts receives.

(Total Engagement divided by Total Posts = Ave. Engagement Per Post)

• Reach & Impressions

(Metrics that can only be seen by FB Page Admins via FB Insights/Ads Manager)

• ‘Reach’   pertains to the actual number of people who have seen a post, while ‘Impression’ pertains to the number of times it was seen or served to the people reached, i.e. if a post is seen twice by each of the 10 people reached, then the total impressions of the said post would be 20.

• ‘Boosting’    The use of paid advertising monies to push for higher reach/impressions, engagement, and/or views for a particular post or content. ‘Boosting’ of a Facebook page can also be done to increase its number of fans/followers.

Notes: Our primary assumption should always be that the posts are ‘organic’ and not boosted.   There is no way for us to be able to prove, with data and facts — not even with a social listening tool — that these candidates are boosting their Facebook posts,  unless we become administrators of their pages. We are playing safe with words/fillers such as “possibly as a result,” “may be,” and stating that the candidates’ content may simply be as relatable to the audience it is reaching, thus getting traction in the form of not only mere Likes or Video Views, but also Comments and Shares.