There was a time when the word kuryente echoed through newsrooms across the country. Veterans would warn the younger reporters: “Double-check your story at baka makuryente ka.”
In the language of Philippine journalism, kuryente doesn’t refer to electricity, but to a false story – planted or otherwise – that a journalist falls for and publishes as fact. It’s a uniquely Filipino newsroom term that has destroyed careers, embarrassed news desks, and exposed the cracks in editorial judgment. When a reporter gets kuryente, it means they were duped. Worse, their editors let it pass.
I first heard the word kuryente from my dad during the Martial Law years, not because he was tortured, but because he, too, worked in news. Back then, kuryente wasn’t just a professional hazard, it was also a kind of hazing. A cocky rookie on the beat, whether in business, defense, Malacañang, Congress, or even general assignment, could be set up by veterans with a bogus lead just to teach him a lesson. It was part of the newsroom culture. A rite of passage.
We say this now not to point fingers, but to admit: Kami rin nakuryente.
It happened during the early years of ABS-CBN’s online news operations, when digital desks were undermanned and under constant pressure to publish quickly. One slow weekend, a story surfaced about a plane crash in Manila Bay. A writer found it online, assumed it was fresh, and wrote the piece. The editor approved. The publisher released it.
Only later did we realize that the incident had occurred two years earlier.
It happened again, this time involving an alleged feud between singers Regine Velasquez and Mariah Carey. The story spread quickly. We ran it. And we were wrong. The feud never happened. Again, nakuryente kami.
It’s a hard lesson, but one worth revisiting, especially now, when the threat is no longer limited to honest mistakes.
Today, we face something more deliberate: Clickbait.
It began as a harmless tactic, writing catchy headlines to increase online engagement. But somewhere along the way, it turned into a weapon. Real articles were posted on social media with deliberately misleading headlines, designed not to inform, but to inflame. To get clicks, not clarity. To stir outrage, not understanding.
Clickbait, in its worst form, paved the way for something even more toxic. Evil to be exact: ‘Fake news.’
And let’s be clear: Fake news is not news. It’s a contradiction. It is disinformation disguised as journalism. And when it spreads, it doesn’t just distort facts, it erodes public trust. It rewrites narratives. It infects storytelling.
Now comes the next frontier: AI-generated content.
Artificial intelligence is no longer just an assistant, it’s now capable of writing full articles, generating convincing images, and creating videos of people saying things they never said. Used responsibly, AI can support newsrooms. Used maliciously, it becomes a disinformation machine with unmatched scale and speed.
This is not a hypothetical threat. This is a preview of what’s coming in 2028.
The next presidential election will not just be a battle of platforms or personalities. It will be a battleground of truth versus manipulation. Expect more fake endorsements. Expect more deepfakes. Expect AI-written propaganda. And worst of all, expect it to be shared by people – ordinary citizens or politicians – who can no longer tell the difference.
The responsibility is heavy, not just on journalists, but on every Filipino with access to a screen.
Let this be a warning. Not every viral post is credible. Not every trending headline is true. And not every article is written by a human with a conscience.
We will talk more about this next time, AI-generated content and the coming 2028 elections. For now, anything you read online, vet, validate, and verify. Bawal makuryente!
