The collapse of credibility

By Noel Galon de Leon

Where does credibility go after it has been swallowed whole by an oppressive system that feeds on silence, compliance, and fear? This question has been sitting with me for days now, lingering in the still moments after I deliberately limited my time on social media and chose instead to confront something more uncomfortable and more honest within myself. I began to wonder what happens to the credibility of the people we once admired and trusted when they slowly become instruments of projects that feel less like truth and more like carefully packaged propaganda disguised as books or artistic expressions. I find myself asking whether these works still illuminate reality or simply blur it further, whether they reveal the conditions of artists and the industry or conceal them behind polished narratives that are easier to digest. And in the stillness of these reflections, I cannot help but ask a question that feels both personal and accusatory: Do they still sleep well at night knowing the roles they have chosen to play?

In the local media landscape and among personalities connected to art, culture, and journalism here in Iloilo City, what is unfolding is deeply unsettling and difficult to ignore if you are paying even the slightest attention. It becomes painfully clear when you read through comment sections and witness how supposedly educated individuals engage with one another in ways that feel more like verbal warfare than meaningful discourse. There was once a term for this kind of chaotic exchange, bardagulan, but even that word feels too light for the bitterness and hostility now on display. What makes it more disturbing is that these are not anonymous voices lost in the crowd but recognized figures in fields that are supposed to nurture thought, culture, and truth. They seem unconcerned with the harm their words might cause as long as they can assert their stance and defend their beliefs, whether those beliefs are grounded in truth or not.

Politics plays a heavy hand in this erosion, and it is impossible to separate the current state of credibility from the deeply entrenched and often dirty political practices that have taken root in Iloilo. What we see now is a growing obsession with producing social media content that attracts attention and builds a following, regardless of whether the content itself holds any real substance or integrity. There are politicians who stage moments with laborers and vendors, not out of genuine solidarity but to create an image that can be consumed and applauded online. It is a performance that prioritizes optics over action, visibility over responsibility, and it leaves a bitter taste because it reduces the struggles of working people into mere background material for personal branding. This kind of behavior does not just disappoint; it actively strips away credibility and replaces it with something hollow and transactional.

What makes this even more troubling is the way these performances overshadow the actual work that needs to be done for marginalized sectors that continue to wait for meaningful change. Instead of engaging in dialogue or crafting policies that address real issues, there is a tendency to prioritize documentation over action, to capture moments rather than create solutions. It is difficult not to feel frustrated when you see content being uploaded faster than legislation is being proposed or implemented. This imbalance sends a clear message about priorities and intentions, and it raises serious questions about whether public service is still rooted in service at all. When the act of helping becomes secondary to the act of showcasing help, credibility begins to erode in ways that are both visible and deeply damaging.

Beyond politicians, the role of local journalists becomes even more critical in shaping a society that values thoughtfulness and accountability. Journalists are expected to uncover truths and provide clarity, to act as bridges between events and public understanding, yet there are moments when their silence becomes louder than any report they could have written. Issues such as the struggles of ambulant vendors, worsening traffic congestion, recurring flooding, and the tension between urban development and heritage preservation continue to persist without the level of scrutiny they deserve. When these topics are met with hesitation or avoidance, it becomes difficult not to question the commitment of those who are meant to bring them to light. Silence in the face of urgency is not neutrality; it is a choice that carries consequences.

When journalists refrain from engaging with pressing concerns like power issues, infrastructure failures, and the ongoing challenges surrounding informal settlers and relocation, the absence of their voices creates a vacuum that misinformation can easily fill. The responsibility they carry is not a light one, and it demands courage as much as it demands skill. When that courage falters, credibility begins to slip away, subtly at first and then more noticeably as time goes on. People begin to wonder whether there are unseen pressures shaping what is reported and what is left unsaid. Trust, once questioned, becomes fragile, and the relationship between the public and the press begins to shift in ways that are difficult to repair.

Cultural workers also carry a weight that is often underestimated, yet their influence on how society understands itself is profound and far-reaching. Historians, artists, and writers are not merely creators of content but interpreters of reality, memory, and identity. Their work has the power to challenge narratives and open pathways toward deeper understanding, but this power comes with a responsibility that cannot be ignored. When they choose silence in moments that call for reflection and critique, their absence speaks volumes about the boundaries they are unwilling to cross. It raises questions about whether their work is guided by conviction or constrained by comfort.

Take, for example, the role of historians in conversations about urban development and heritage preservation, a topic that continues to shape the identity of cities like Iloilo. When historians remain silent or align themselves unquestioningly with development that disregards historical context, it becomes difficult to reconcile their role as guardians of memory with their apparent indifference. History is not simply a record of the past but a foundation for understanding the present and shaping the future. When that foundation is neglected or manipulated, the consequences extend far beyond academic discourse and into the lived experiences of communities.

Artists, too, are faced with choices that define not only their work but their place within society, and those choices often reveal more than the art itself. When art becomes a tool for division rather than understanding, it loses something essential that once made it powerful and transformative. There is a difference between challenging ideas and attacking individuals, between provoking thought and perpetuating harm. When artists blur this line, they risk undermining the very purpose of their craft and inviting doubt about the integrity behind their creations. Credibility in art is not just about skill; it is about intention and the impact that intention carries.

Writers, who shape narratives and give language to experiences, are not exempt from this responsibility, and their silence or participation in harmful discourse carries weight that extends beyond the page. Words have the ability to influence perception and guide conversation, and when they are used carelessly or selectively, they contribute to the same erosion of trust seen in other fields. It is not enough to write beautifully if the substance behind the writing fails to engage with truth or complexity. Readers are not just passive consumers; they are participants in a shared search for meaning, and they deserve honesty in that process.

Some will argue that everyone has their own context and struggles, and that it is unfair to expect individuals to take positions on every issue that arises. There is truth in this perspective, and it is important to acknowledge the personal realities that shape each person’s choices and limitations. However, acknowledging context should not become an excuse for disengagement, especially in moments that demand collective awareness and action. There is a difference between understanding one’s limitations and retreating from responsibility, and it is a line that must be navigated with care and honesty.

We often tell ourselves that we are all fighting our own battles and doing our best to navigate a complex world, and while this may be true, it does not absolve us from the need to engage critically with the society we are part of. In times like these, when misinformation spreads easily and narratives are shaped by those with the loudest voices, the ability to question and reflect becomes more important than ever. Encouraging one another to think critically is not an act of division but an act of collective growth. It requires patience and openness, but it is necessary for building a more informed and compassionate community.

To stand for what is right has never been a simple or comfortable task, and it often comes with consequences that test one’s resolve and sense of self. Yet it is precisely this willingness to stand firm that defines credibility in its most meaningful sense. It is not about being perfect or always being correct but about demonstrating a commitment to truth and integrity, even when it is inconvenient or unpopular. When individuals choose to remain silent or ambiguous in the face of clear injustice, they risk losing something that cannot easily be regained.

Credibility is not built overnight, and it is not sustained by reputation alone; it requires consistent action, reflection, and accountability. It is shaped by the choices we make and the values we uphold, and it is tested in moments when those values are challenged. Once it begins to erode, the process is often gradual but relentless, leaving behind a sense of doubt that lingers even when attempts are made to restore trust. Rebuilding credibility is possible, but it demands a level of honesty and effort that many are not prepared to undertake.

There is a certain darkness that accompanies the loss of credibility, a subtle but persistent awareness that something essential has been compromised. It is not always visible to others at first, but it is felt internally in ways that can be difficult to ignore. This awareness can lead to reflection and change, but it can also lead to further denial and justification, depending on how one chooses to confront it. The path taken in these moments often determines whether credibility can be reclaimed or whether it continues to fade into something unrecognizable.

The digital age has amplified both the opportunities and the risks associated with credibility, creating spaces where voices can be heard but also where they can be distorted and manipulated. Social media platforms offer visibility and reach, but they also encourage performance and validation in ways that can overshadow authenticity. The pressure to maintain relevance can lead individuals to prioritize engagement over substance, creating a cycle that reinforces superficiality at the expense of depth. In this environment, credibility becomes both more valuable and more vulnerable.

It is easy to become cynical when faced with these realities, to assume that credibility is simply another currency to be traded and discarded as needed. Yet this perspective risks overlooking the individuals and efforts that continue to strive for integrity despite the challenges they face. There are still those who choose to speak truthfully and act responsibly, even when it comes at a personal cost. Recognizing and supporting these efforts is essential for maintaining a sense of hope and possibility within the broader landscape.

At the same time, it is important not to romanticize the idea of credibility as something unattainable or reserved for a select few. It is a quality that can be cultivated through conscious choices and sustained effort. It requires self-awareness and a willingness to confront one’s own biases and limitations, as well as an openness to learning and growth. These qualities are not exclusive to any profession or field; they are accessible to anyone who is willing to engage with them honestly.

The conversation around credibility is not just about others; it is also about ourselves and the roles we play within our communities and networks. It invites us to examine our own actions and assumptions, to question whether we are contributing to the problem or working toward a solution. This kind of introspection can be uncomfortable, but it is necessary for meaningful change to occur. Without it, discussions about credibility risk becoming hollow critiques rather than catalysts for growth.

In many ways, credibility is tied to trust, and trust is built through relationships that are nurtured over time and tested through experience. When trust is broken, the impact extends beyond the individual to the communities and systems they are part of. Repairing this damage requires more than apologies or surface-level changes; it demands a genuine commitment to transformation and accountability. This process is often slow and challenging, but it is essential for rebuilding connections that have been strained or severed.

There is also a collective dimension to credibility that cannot be ignored, as it is influenced by the norms and expectations that shape our interactions and institutions. When systems reward behavior that undermines integrity, it becomes more difficult for individuals to maintain credibility without facing significant obstacles. Addressing this requires not only individual action but also structural changes that support transparency and accountability. It is a complex task, but one that is necessary for creating environments where credibility can thrive.

Education plays a crucial role in this process, as it shapes how individuals understand and engage with the world around them. Encouraging critical thinking and open dialogue from an early stage can help foster a culture that values truth and integrity. This does not mean imposing a single perspective but rather creating spaces where diverse viewpoints can be explored and challenged in constructive ways. Such an approach helps build resilience against misinformation and promotes a more nuanced understanding of complex issues.

Media literacy is another important aspect, particularly in an age where information is abundant and not always reliable. Being able to evaluate sources and discern credibility is a skill that needs to be developed and practiced continuously. This responsibility does not fall solely on journalists or educators but on all individuals who consume and share information. By becoming more mindful of how we engage with content, we can contribute to a more informed and responsible public discourse.

The question of where credibility goes is not one that can be answered definitively, as it depends on the choices and actions of individuals and communities. It can be lost, hidden, transformed, or reclaimed, depending on how it is treated and valued. What remains clear is that credibility is not something to be taken lightly or assumed to be permanent. It requires care, attention, and a willingness to confront difficult truths.

When credibility dissolves and is overtaken by darkness, it leaves behind a void that is not easily filled, a sense of loss that lingers and shapes how we perceive those who once held our trust. Recovering from this loss is possible, but it demands more than surface-level change; it requires a deep and sustained commitment to integrity and accountability. Without this commitment, attempts to regain credibility may feel hollow and unconvincing, reinforcing the very doubts they seek to dispel.

The challenge is not just to preserve credibility but to understand its value and the responsibility that comes with it. It is a call to remain vigilant and engaged, to question, reflect, and act with intention even when it is difficult. By doing so, we can begin to rebuild a sense of trust and integrity that extends beyond individuals to the systems and communities we are part of. It is not an easy path, but it is one worth taking if we hope to create a society that is both honest and humane.

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Noel Galon de Leon is a writer and professor at the University of the Philippines Visayas, where he teaches in the Division of Professional Education and at UP High School in Iloilo. He is also the secretary of the National Commission for Culture and the Arts-National Committee on Literary Arts.