To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose . . .
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
– Ecclesiastes
The long-held whispers in San Diego, California finally crossed the border into Toronto, courtesy of itchy-tongue rumour mongers and the unmasked crooks who have found the opportune time to spread them.
It’s taken two years, the same length of time that I’ve been in this most wonderful Canadian city. When I left San Diego and 16 years of community journalism there, I had hopes of re-starting my newspaper business here, primarily to engage in investigative reporting on the community level.
My newspapers – Diario Veritas, The District Times and The Philippine Village Voice – approached journalism on a different perspective, the perspective of an adversary, meaning there’s more skepticism in coverage than favoritism.
The half a dozen newspapers in San Diego (most of them wiped out at the advent of digital/online journalism) looked like cousins of the 15 or so publications in Toronto. Their contents were mostly entertainment-oriented, which actually were reprints from newspapers in Manila.
My plan was to bring the same strategic news coverage to Toronto since the 15 newspapers here are more into winning readers and advertisers than in covering the hard news right in their backyards.
I see that coverage of the Filipino community in the Greater Toronto Area is wanting in depth and substance, and I mean no offence to anyone in the business. The fault lies not so much in the newspapers themselves or their publishers and editors.
A more plausible reason is that the community prefers flimsy coverage where they see only the fun and seemingly content side of their neighbourhood and friends.
A nearly similar view is echoed by an executive who, when queried why his network had to bring in such burlesque talents from Manila to perform in Toronto, disclosed that it was the community that essentially chooses what would make them happy. In other words, they do pick their own poison.
Little wonder then that Filipino newspapers carry stories and pictures of people engaged in their seasonal follies, and events catering only to a selected few.
Kodak moments are preserved in pages upon pages of what looked like billboards of people in varying degrees of exposure as in parties, inductions, weddings, baptisms, get-togethers, yard barbecues, concerts, alumni gatherings, etc.
Not quite surprising that the two network rivals in the Philippines see GTA as a rich market for their stars.
Remember the pair who showed off their bronze skins to the eternal delight of salivating matrons and the testosterone-laden menfolk? They brought them to Toronto to top bill community fiestas featuring their most ridiculous performances.
Given this context, I see a need to inform the community about people who face their individual challenges as they struggle for a life of comfort, respect and dignity.
As they pursue their dreams they encounter the unscrupulous among us, they who see the unsuspecting as potential victims. These crooks and their ilk are my pet peeves. My journalism is about them.
These rouges are in every ethnic group, sometimes passing themselves off as titled, pedigreed and respected members of the community. They could be your friends, family, neighbours or professional help.
I have exposed quite a few of them in San Diego. There was this Filipino lawyer (since disbarred) who held elected office, a fake doctor, a bible-holding preacher, some community leaders, a so-called journalist, an aspiring public official and others I don’t remember at this moment.
It is from this group of scammers, swindlers and racketeers that I expect a torrent of falsehoods and unpleasantries. Understandably, they try to rebuild their reputations by discrediting my work and attacking my personal and private life.
I have no problem with that as long as they stick to the truth. They don’t need to embellish because my work and the way I pursue it are colourful enough.
I’ve written articles that some readers found offensive. Revolting the stories may be, but those who feigned offense are also those who read them more than once, digesting every word and committing the stories to memory.
One full-length article has generated a lot of controversies. A mainstream television news channel had gobbled the story and slanted it to attract Filipino audiences. What was top billed as an “investigative piece” was no more than attacks sympathetic with the person I’ve written about.
When I challenged the news director and the reporter to give me equal time and opportunity to rebut the stories on live television, the station merely shrugged it off.
So it didn’t happen. The network was afraid that it will be exposed for its own failure to live up to the highest standards of journalism. Another was that it would lose credibility and consequently, the prime time ratings.
I say all these now only because of what seems to be an orchestrated attempt at grey propaganda that mocks and diminishes my work. The timing is significant; in fact, it came just as the first story about a community organizer hit the internet.
Nobody can ruin a career built on trust, honesty and an adherence to the truth. At various times life-threatening and intimidating, that career remains a challenge even as it has already spanned four decades and counting.
All my life is devoted to journalism, not sainthood. I’ll leave the latter to the pious, the pretenders and those who habitually pray for succour yet continue to commit wrongs against their fellowmen.
There are many of them in Toronto. They cultivate the appearance of being faithful; they go to church every Sunday and on days of obligation and their every move is splashed on pages of friendly papers. But of course, they’re no closer to their gods than they are to the devil because they themselves knew what they purport to do is just a cover.
These are the people who build reputations on raising money from an unsuspecting public. Fund-raising here, fund-raising there. But where does the money go? A diplomat had been told that a party being hosted for him would charge attendees some money ostensibly to go to charities.
Well, the diplomat informed me that he agreed only on the condition that whatever amount is raised would be turned over to him right away. Because he didn’t trust either the person or the process of supposedly remitting the money to the beneficiary, he asked the fundraiser to hand over the money right after the event.
As I continue to pursue my kind of journalism, the least I could say is that I am not scared a bit. Intimidation only strengthens my resolve.
If my adversaries have found clones in Toronto willing to do their bidding, then they’re in for rough times.
“To everything there is a season . . . ” Is it now a time of war?