
Published on May 21, 2026
Months before the 2016 elections, a writer from the south had narrowed his choices to two of the five presidential candidates.
He was looking not only for a competent and honest leader proven in governance, but also for someone who could push the Philippines toward becoming one of Southeast Asia’s most progressive economies.
So he decided to wait for the debates, listening first to how the candidates would present their visions for the country before making a final choice.
Then he came across a headline circulating on social media. One of his preferred candidates had issued statements that seemed politically self-destructive.
He tapped the link and read the story. The candidate’s statements damaged his own bid for the presidency.
Then he noticed the name of the news site. He had never heard of it before.
He copied the headline into Google’s search box, hoping news organizations would confirm the report. None did.
He knitted his brows. “Why would a candidate give an exclusive interview only to sabotage his own campaign?”
A few days later, he began noticing headlines on social media boosting the candidacy of his other preferred candidate.
He checked the websites behind the headlines. All were unfamiliar. None listed an office address, contact details, or editorial staff. Most appeared no more credible than free WordPress sites.
The pattern continued for months. It was the first time he had seen disinformation spread so aggressively on social media during a national campaign. Its obvious primary beneficiary and main victim became clearer — the two candidates he was choosing between.
The disinformation machinery was reinforced by the illusion of overwhelming public support. Behind many accounts were anonymous operators managing networks of fake profiles designed to amplify narratives, attack critics, and weave a fiction of consensus.
The disinformation campaign spread so effectively that even his relatives and friends on social media were resharing fabricated stories.
Overseas Filipino workers have also been targeted by disinformation networks. Once influenced, some may reecho these narratives among relatives and communities back home, where their opinions are often seen as credible because of their status as overseas workers.
The machinery fabricated stories and spread them on social media, then trolls blamed the press for not reporting them. Fanatics dismissed the media as biased for ignoring what were actually figments of imagination.
Even after the elections, the pattern went on. The constant disinformation campaigns hardened supporters into political fanatics — people whose loyalty belongs to politicians rather than institutions or the country.
Whenever someone questioned their favored politicians, the machinery retaliated with fabricated accusations of corruption. And when a critic’s reputation appeared beyond reproach, it manufactured controversies from matters that had nothing to do with governance or public service. Many fanatics accepted these engineered narratives without question.
Even when a senatorial candidate from the rival camp possesses glaringly stronger credentials, a clearer vision, and a deeper understanding of governance, the fanatics remain loyal to their chosen politician. They vote out of attachment to politicians rather than concern for the welfare of the nation. Yet they repeatedly claim they love the country.
They seldom confront truth through intellectual debate; they usually drown it beneath noise, repetition, and carefully staged humility. They even use performative generosity to evade and strangle truth. Some seem to have copied a classic disinformation tactic: shaming and intimidating anyone who questions their politicians until he retreats into silence.
But fanaticism does not stop at defending local politicians at the expense of transparency, good governance, and national interests.
Its consequences reach far beyond domestic politics — and far beyond what most fanatics realize.
Unknowingly, the fanatics become geopolitical assets for forces beyond the country’s borders.
Disinformation campaigns that advance the interests of foreign powers are not new. Analysts and investigations had linked Russian troll farms to influence operations during the 2016 United States elections.
When an investigation led by a lawmaker from the opposing camp uncovered an organization’s links to organized crime, human trafficking, corruption, espionage, and threats to national security, the fanatics mocked the effort instead of commending it. It did not even alarm them.
Even the lawmaker’s warnings on maritime issues were dismissed as grandstanding — not because the concerns lacked merit, but because the speaker belonged to the rival camp.
In repeating lines such as “Wala tayong magagawa ‘dyan,” the fanatics unconsciously amplify narratives of helplessness that benefit foreign strategic interests.
Some fanatics even use economic ties to silence critics.
Many would call you out for using products imported from a foreign power. Yet that foreign power itself is part of an interconnected global supply chain. It imports agricultural products, electronic components and semiconductors, processed metals and minerals, and more from the Philippines. They treat economic interdependence as an excuse not to assert sovereignty and rights, and influence people to think in the same way.
Countries trade with states they disagree with politically. For example, the US, Japan, India, and other countries keep economic ties with China while asserting territorial, strategic, and political interests.
They also call out Filipinos online with remarks such as “Tumigil kayo sa kakaiyak,” as though they themselves would not even speak to defend the country’s territories and rights.
When echoed and reinforced over time, such voices may gradually erode the nation’s sense of patriotism, teaching younger generations that resignation is more convenient than defending the country’s rights and interests.
When the sense of patriotism is constantly undermined, foreign powers may find fewer obstacles to advancing their strategic interests within the country.
Citizens are, knowingly or unwittingly, weaponized against their own country. All it takes are popular figures for them to follow.
When a politician suggested on social media the decommissioning of the Philippine Coast Guard, the fanatics responded with approval through thousands of emojis and supportive remarks — even though he offered no clear alternative force to patrol the country’s compromised waters.
Fanatics even attack journalists, coast guard personnel, academics, and diplomats who release information and documents on maritime issues. They belittle and laugh at maritime concerns. They cast resistance to sweeping claims as warmongering. In doing so, they amplify narratives favorable to a foreign power and strengthen its strategic positioning.
Due to political fanaticism, some people have even gestured support for the balkanization of some parts of the country into a separate republic — a call repeatedly promoted by politicians who could no longer advance their interests under the current regime.
Such flirtations with fragmentation stand in stark contrast to the centuries of struggle endured by our forebears in pursuit of sovereignty and independence.
Some fanatics appear not to even suspect that their favored politicians may be compromising national interests.
The writer from the south recalled how a friend reacted with a laughing emoji to his social media post warning about sweeping maritime claims. His friend was an ardent supporter of politicians who had long benefited from the propaganda apparatus — just one of the many who ridiculed any defiance to excessive maritime claims.
Perhaps the fanatics who unconsciously become geopolitical assets are not ingrained within the Philippines alone, but are also found within overseas Filipino communities shaped by the same disinformation networks that benefit local politicians.
In the age of disinformation, the battle for sovereignty is no longer fought only at sea or along borders, but also within the minds of citizens.
Elections loom again in the distance. One begins to suspect that a foreign power with strategic interests in the country will exploit disinformation to influence people to support anointed local politicians. Some fanatics or even non-fanatics may not entertain such doubt.
Yet there are signs of hope. The writer from the south stood for the truth from the moment he saw it being twisted. He has seen some people gradually walk away from political fanaticism, choosing country, competence, and integrity over loyalty to politicians.
Perhaps this turning point is made possible in part by ordinary citizens in silent defiance — tapping their keypads at bus stations, in grocery lines, and outside school gates while waiting for their children — quietly pushing back against disinformation and its consequences.
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Oliver Samson is a Philippines-based journalist covering environment, church, and social issues. His work has appeared in Global Sisters Report, Radio Veritas Asia, World Mission, and other publications.