When tourism becomes personal branding

By Herman M. Lagon

The criticism directed towards a magazine cover that featured Tourism Secretary Christina Garcia-Frasco was never primarily about photography, layout, or even a single publication. It struck a deeper nerve because it echoed a familiar frustration: when public institutions slowly begin to resemble personal billboards, people notice. This is not because we reject attention, but rather because they perceive a shift from service to self, a shift that feels out of place in the tourism industry, where the importance of place and people is paramount.

The photographer’s complaint that hundreds of thousands of images of destinations were sidelined in favor of a cover dominated by a political figure became viral because it resonated with lived experience. Many of us have stood in airports where confusion greets visitors, waited hours for delayed island connections, or paid more to travel domestically than to neighboring countries. When those realities persist, seeing faces take precedence over places feels less like coincidence and more like symptom.

The Department of Tourism’s clarification—that the magazine was privately produced and editorially independent—matters, and it deserves to be acknowledged. Institutional fairness requires distinguishing allegation from proof. Yet public trust is shaped not only by formal disclaimers but by patterns. The reason the issue gained traction is that it aligned with a growing perception that tourism governance has become excessively personalized, where names and images seem omnipresent even in spaces meant to highlight destinations, communities, and workers.

This is what many Pinoys call epal politics, not as a slur but as a shorthand for misplaced presence. It describes moments when officials appear where they are not needed, or when credit is visually claimed before outcomes are felt. In tourism, this is particularly damaging because the sector relies on collective effort—LGUs fixing roads, workers delivering service, communities protecting environments. When leaders take up too much space in the picture, the people and places doing the real work fade—and resentment grows quietly, until it suddenly surfaces.

The frustration intensifies when placed beside regional comparisons. Our neighbors Thailand, Vietnam, Malaysia, and Indonesia attract more visitors not through beauty alone, but through ease and affordability. The Philippines has the sights, stories, and seas—yet lags behind. It leaves one uneasy question: where is the disconnect?

Infrastructure remains the most obvious culprit. Airports outside major hubs are congested or underdeveloped. Inter-island travel is expensive and unreliable. Internet connectivity in many destinations still fails basic expectations of modern travelers. These are not branding problems. They are governance problems. No slogan, however poetic, compensates for missed flights, unsafe transport, or predatory pricing at arrival points.

Cost is another quiet deterrent. Environmental fees stack up. Wild transport prices push many of us to travel abroad instead. If Vietnam or Thailand feels cheaper and easier, the choice is not rejection—it is reality. It is feedback.

Safety and trust further erode competitiveness. Stories of taxi scams, inflated rates, fake guides, and petty theft circulate faster than official press releases can counter them. Word of mouth drives tourism. One negative experience, shared online, can undo millions in promotional spending. That reality demands humility and attention, not defensiveness.

Leadership, of course, is important. The Secretary has outlined partnerships with transport, health, infrastructure, and digital agencies, and those efforts should not be dismissed outright. Policy coordination takes time. Reform rarely moves at the speed of public anger. Still, accountability in public service means accepting that perception follows performance, not intention. When outcomes lag, explanations sound hollow, even when technically valid.

The issue of political dynasties complicates this further. The visibility of the Garcia-Frasco family across elective and appointive posts feeds suspicion, fairly or not, that access and exposure are unevenly distributed. In such contexts, even innocent acts are read through a lens of concentration of power. That is the burden of public office in a country weary of inherited influence. Leaders do not choose that lens, but they must navigate it carefully.

Legislators and analysts should not frame criticism of underperformance as sabotage. When data, transparency, and restraint meet scrutiny, governance improves. Playing the victim weakens credibility, especially in a sector employing millions who feel the consequences of policy choices daily. Tourism workers do not need rhetorical defense. They need systems that make their work easier, safer, and better rewarded.

What many critics are actually asking for is modest: less emphasis on faces, more focus on fixes. Less performative promotion, more quiet coordination. Less energy spent correcting narratives, more spent correcting bottlenecks. The most effective tourism leaders globally are rarely the most visible. They are remembered because airports worked, prices made sense, and visitors felt welcome without being hustled.

There is a lesson here beyond tourism: good governance pauses to ask whether actions still serve people, and whether visibility still delivers results. When leaders learn to step back so institutions can step forward, trust grows. When they do not, even success feels suspect.

Philippine tourism does not lack beauty, talent, or potential. What it lacks is coherence between branding and lived experience. Until travelers feel that coherence—from airport arrival to island departure—no amount of exposure will close the gap with our neighbors. Tourism is not about being seen. It is about being remembered, for the right reasons.

The public backlash, then, should not be dismissed as noise. It is a diagnostic signal. It tells us that Filipinos are paying attention, comparing notes, and asking harder questions. The challenge for the Department of Tourism is not to win arguments, but to win back confidence. And confidence, unlike magazine covers, cannot be designed. It has to be earned.

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Doc H fondly describes himself as a “student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.