Locating ‘traditional media’ in a digitally driven and hyperconnected world

Keynote speech delivered by Dr. Clement C. Camposano, UP Visayas chancellor, at the 25th anniversary of Daily Guardian, April 29, 2026

Good evening and thank you, friends in the Daily Guardian, for this opportunity to give this evening’s keynote.

Many observers today claim that digital platforms have displaced what is often described as legacy or traditional media, i.e., pre-internet forms of communication such as newspapers, radio, television, magazines, and film. These forms may be described as generally centralized, unidirectional, and designed for the mass-market. True artifacts of the industrial age.

Clearly, there have been tectonic shifts in the field of communication, and we need to have a keen understanding of them if we are to meaningfully respond to the challenges they bring and the disruptions they have caused (and continue to cause). The digital media and the internet have altered, in a very fundamental way, how we produce, share, and consume information, with profound consequences for public life.

In the not-so-distant past, newspapers, radio, and television mediated the traffic in ideas, opinions, and information shaping policy, beliefs, and social norms – what Habermas (1962) calls the “public sphere”. Those who had access to these institutions decisively shaped discourse, and those who controlled them had massive influence. In this context, authoritative voices moderated and restrained public debate and conversation. The cost of maintaining and running these institutions also meant economic and political constraints. Pressure from advertisers, for instance, could force a prominent newspaper to fold (no pun intended).

Now, however, this role has been largely taken over by digital media, the fundamental form of which constitutes a network and not a community. Bauman (2016) has argued that we should not confuse the two: You belong to a community, the network belongs to you. A newspaper, whether national or local, presumes a community of readers and assumes a certain responsibility towards that community. A Facebook account, on the other hand, is at the center of a social network, a mini social universe built on the basis of mutual exchange – sending and accepting friend requests.

Both accord public visibility, but they do not share the same ethos. They are not driven by the same spirit, so to speak. They also operate on the basis of different business models – one sells packaged content for a segment of the market (the readership), the other distributes content directly to individual screens and monetizes attention (which is often conflated with “engagement” ).

An opinion piece or a news item is vetted and is uniformly available to a particular newspaper’s readership, while social media content is actively curated for the user by activities in his personal network and his own online behavior, whether passive consumption or active interaction. This curation, happening in real time, is governed by algorithms that optimize for engagement, thus resulting in what has been aptly described as digital echo chambers. In social media, and in the internet in general, you do not only find information. Information also finds you (Wesch 2007).

This mutually reinforcing context is highly conducive to outrage and the propagation of confined views, and certainly works against moderation, nuance, and restraint. If your posts and other activities online articulate strongly held views on politics, you are inevitably exposed to content that align with such views. Similarly, if you stare at a cat video long enough, your feed will very quickly feature a stream of cat-related content. Unfortunately, this process is amplified by active disinformation through AI-generated deepfakes, bots, and troll farms.

All these result in a form of digital tribalism that fragments the public sphere, that space of free exchange, and erodes civic culture and citizenship. The idea of a larger society of anonymous others will be much harder to sustain under these conditions and replaced by narrow, self-sustaining enclaves. If this is not addressed, democratic institutions – designed in the pre-digital age – could fail. Virality and fake news will increasingly hijack the popular will and decide political outcomes.

What role can newspapers and other print media, radio, and television play given all these? Are they all truly destined to die? Undoubtedly, a good number of traditional media companies will go the way of the dinosaurs (a good number too will not be missed, but that is another story). I believe, however, that some will survive and, perhaps, even thrive.

We are, in fact, seeing new types of organizations that are not only digital migrants but are natives to cyberspace. The growth of the internet economy itself suggests that, backed by the right business models, media companies can grow into viable, resilient, and genuinely independent entities.

Allow me to explain more fully where this optimism comes from. Historically, all great technologies are disruptive. Technologies that are not disruptive are, probably, not so great. Indeed, one may view human history as a history of technologies. It seems to me that anxieties over the role of technology is driven more by lack of understanding (perhaps for some, made worse by having watched too many “Terminator” movies).

Digital technologies may not be neutral (no technology ever is! ) but they are not inevitably bad either. Social media platforms can spread fake news, but they can also mobilize public opposition and hold those in power accountable. The FPV drones that deliver bombs and transform the nature of warfare in Ukraine, can also be used to restore mangroves and protect fragile ecosystems. Here in the Philippines, the internet that daily assault the senses with unwelcome content (think of Iloy Bugris, for instance ), is now also the fastest growing subsector (of the fastest growing sector) of the economy (services). The Philippine internet economy has a merchandize value in 2024 in excess of 30 billion dollars. The projection for 2025 is 36 billion dollars, with e-commerce accounting for 60% of the total GMV (Inquirer. net Nov. 27, 2025).

Philosophically, I argue alongside Polo (1999) that technology is integral to human nature. Of all the species on this earth, ours is the only one not adapted to a particular environment. We are found everywhere, even in extreme environments. We are “unfinished” in that sense, and we complete and perfect ourselves through our tools, through technology. Our biology is properly technological – a large brain, an upright posture, dexterous hands, and an unparalleled capacity for language and culture. All these suggest that our evolutionary path is tied to technology, through which we have been able to adapt the environment to our own needs. I believe humans, their institutions, and technology are meant to evolve together.

Organizations that belonged to traditional media, if they are to thrive and not merely survive, must evolve for the digital age. They need to transition from being digital migrants and refugees and become indigenized in cyberspace. Not natives, because they have roots in the pre-digital past, but made somewhat indigenous. While this process may be open-ended, allow me to share what I would consider to be tentative but, nonetheless, useful guideposts for organizations seeking to navigate this transition.

The first of these is digital citizenship. According to the Council of Europe (2022), digital citizenship is “competent and positive engagement with digital technologies… participating actively and responsibly in communities at all levels… [and] defending human dignity”. Media organizations need to be active promoters of digital citizenship.

The emphasis on human dignity suggests a second guidepost: The idea of the common good. The social teachings of the Church define the common good as “the sum total of social conditions which allow people, either as groups or individuals, to reach their fulfillment more fully and more easily” (Gaudium et Spes, 1965). Human dignity is central to this fulfillment.

Lastly, we need to understand that, while for many of us today cyberspace is seemingly a space “to be and to dwell”, this digital artifice is not a separated out virtual sphere of life. Most people, in the course of the day, navigate constantly between online and offline. Nonetheless, offline is where we breathe polluted air and suffer the incompetence and greed of those in power. The third guidepost is, therefore, the need to link – and, therefore, ground – digital media to offline civic purposes.

There are good examples of media organizations that, under the most difficult circumstances, speak truth to power. I can mention two that will be familiar to many of you: Maria Ressa’s Rappler and Mehdi Hasan’s Zeteo. The former challenged the seeming impunity of a sitting President, and the latter has incessantly voiced opposition to the genocidal violence visited on the Palestinians.

There are so many other examples, both grand and humble, profound and prosaic, and they all illustrate the same, fundamental point: All the digital technologies that today occasion so much anxiety are not static artifacts. They are continuously molded to suit various purposes by active users.

What they have become, are becoming, and could still become is a reflection not only of the human condition, but of our species’ evolutionary partnership with technology. Indeed, of the co-constructive nature of our relationship with our tools. As we create new technologies, from stone handaxes, to books, to the latest AI platforms, these in turn shape our behaviors and habits.

The human journey continues.

Thank you for your attention, and a pleasant evening to all.