THE PAGES BEHIND THE LAUGHING EMOJIS

One Facebook post about Jonvic Remulla had roughly 154,000 laughing reactions when I checked it. That was out of about 159,300 reactions, with another 31,100 comments.

That’s a lot of people laughing at one politician over something he said in an interview.

Now, I’m hardly a Jonvic fan. I had high expectations when he took over the DILG, and I’ve criticized him several times for falling short. My opinion of his performance hasn’t changed.

But I’ve been watching some of these Facebook pages for a while, and the attention they were giving Remulla caught my interest.

You see, when we talk about trolls, we often think of newly created Facebook accounts, fake names, stolen profile pictures, and people who seem to spend their entire day attacking politicians in comment sections.

The pages I’ve been watching are different.

Some have tens of thousands of followers. At least one of the pages I’ve checked has more than 300,000. They have names, logos, and enough followers to make their posts appear credible to people who don’t bother checking who’s behind them.

But who actually runs these pages? Who writes the posts? Who checks the information before publishing it?

And why does so much of their political content seem designed to make people angry, laugh, or argue?

I’m not saying that every anonymous political page is a troll operation. Anonymity alone proves very little. But I’ve noticed how some pages can take one statement, give it a provocative caption, and collect thousands of reactions without bothering to explain what the statement was about.

Remulla’s interview was a good example.

On October 19, he appeared on ANC’s Headstart with Karen Davila and talked about cleaning up the Philippine National Police, public trust, and people feeling safer.

News Ngayon posted a graphic carrying this line:

“Now, for the first time, Philippines trust police.”

It also attributed Filipinos’ feeling safer to policemen doing their jobs.

The caption actually mentioned OCTA Research and Pulse Asia. It even included Remulla’s clarification that he was talking about cities becoming safer, rather than claiming they were the safest.

But where were the figures?

If you’re going to make fun of a government official for claiming that people trust the police for the first time, wouldn’t it be useful to show readers whether Filipinos already trusted the police before?

The survey companies were named, but the numbers weren’t explained.

And that’s where things became interesting.

The same interview appeared on other pages in different forms. Some made their own graphics or short video clips. Yam channel uploaded a graphic that still carried the Masang Pilipino logo and website.

That last example gives us a visible connection between two posts. Somebody was passing around material another page had already prepared.

Does that prove all these pages were working together? No.

A page can copy another page because the content is popular. Two pages can also independently notice the same interview. But when I see political content repeatedly circulating among pages that already have large audiences, I want to know whether there’s more behind the distribution.

Especially when the posts generate this much attention.

I also wanted to know whether Remulla was talking nonsense or whether the people mocking him were leaving something out.

Fortunately, OCTA Research had sent Morning Coffee Thoughts the relevant reports.

Its July 2026 survey found that 65 percent of adult Filipinos trusted the PNP.

That’s a majority.

The same survey found 13 percent expressing distrust, while the remaining respondents were undecided.

But here’s the interesting part. In March, trust was already at 63 percent.

So what exactly happened between March and July? An increase of two percentage points, which OCTA itself said was within the survey’s three-point margin of error.

In other words, the national trust rating was pretty much stable.

That raises a question for Remulla. If he meant that Filipinos were trusting the PNP for the first time, how does he explain the majority who already trusted it in March?

And we can go further back.

Pulse Asia recorded 70 percent trust in the PNP in December 2016.

So Filipinos trusting the police is hardly a new development.

Perhaps Remulla meant a particular period or a different survey result. Fine. Then identify it. Tell us which survey, when it was conducted, and what the actual question was.

I also found something in the OCTA report that deserves more attention than a laughing emoji.

Only 40 percent of respondents in Metro Manila said they trusted the PNP in July.

In March, that figure had been 54 percent.

That’s a 14-point difference in just four months.

Now, NCR has a wider survey margin of error than the national result, so I wouldn’t treat those percentages as an exact headcount of public opinion. But 40 percent is considerably lower than the national rating of 65 percent.

Why?

What is happening in Metro Manila that might explain the difference? Is the DILG looking into it?

Then I read OCTA’s separate report on public safety.

In July, 72 percent of respondents said they felt safe in their neighborhoods. Another 68 percent said they weren’t afraid to walk alone at night.

Those sound like encouraging figures until you look at the earlier survey.

In March 2023, 87 percent said they felt safe in their neighborhoods, while 81 percent said they weren’t afraid to walk alone at night.

Both figures had fallen.

So yes, most respondents in July 2026 still expressed confidence about their safety. But fewer did so than three years earlier.

Which brings me back to Remulla.

If the DILG wants to credit the police for making people feel safer, I’d like to see the evidence. A survey asking people how safe they feel doesn’t establish what caused those feelings. You would also need to look at crime statistics, police operations, and other conditions in those communities.

There’s plenty here worth asking him about.

And yet, the Facebook posts I was following gave people very little of this information.

Think about it. The pages already had the interview. The survey companies had been named. The figures were publicly available.

They could have checked them.

They could have shown readers that Remulla had a legitimate majority trust figure but that his apparent claim about Filipinos trusting the police for the first time needed explaining.

They could have raised the NCR numbers and the decline in public safety perceptions.

Instead, the posts concentrated on the portion most likely to make people laugh.

And judging from the reactions, that approach attracted plenty of attention.

I’ve seen something similar before.

Remember the criticism of GMA News involving Grace Locsin?

On September 26, Locsin posted a lengthy criticism of the network after GMA reported allegations made by Rodulfo Gracioso Jr., a former police officer who claimed to have served as the security chief of former House Speaker Lord Allan Velasco.

Gracioso alleged that he had delivered suitcases containing cash to members of the Duterte family on Velasco’s instructions, including more than ₱2 billion to Sara Duterte.

These were allegations. Sara Duterte denied knowing Gracioso or receiving money from him. Velasco’s camp also rejected the accusations.

But Locsin criticized GMA’s credibility. She brought up Gracioso, Ramil Madriaga, Edgar Matobato, Arturo Lascañas, and Antonio Trillanes, suggesting that the reporting followed a familiar script.

Her post included this line:

“GMA News, THIS IS TOO LOW.”

Now, you’re free to criticize GMA News. You’re also free to question Gracioso’s credibility, the evidence behind his claims, or the editorial decisions involved in airing his interview.

I’d actually welcome that kind of criticism because these are serious accusations involving public officials.

But declaring that a news organization has lost its credibility doesn’t tell us whether the allegations are true or false.

What interested me was what happened to Locsin’s post afterward.

DuterteSara Supporters reproduced much of her statement on September 26 and added its own criticism.

On September 28, two other pages, Presidenting Davaweñio and Trending News Online, carried matching introductory paragraphs before reproducing Locsin’s statement.

The posting times recorded were 7:25 a.m. and 7:53 a.m.

Twenty-eight minutes apart, with the same additional introduction.

Now, that’s interesting.

Those paragraphs were separate from Locsin’s original statement. Somebody had prepared additional wording, and it appeared on more than one page.

Was one copying the other? Did both receive the same prepared material? Were they managed by people who knew one another?

I don’t know.

And I’m not going to invent an answer.

But this is why I’ve been watching these pages. I want to understand how content moves between them, especially when the same political message keeps appearing in front of different audiences.

For the record, the Gracioso controversy didn’t end with Locsin’s criticism.

On October 8, Sara Duterte’s lawyers submitted her affidavit to the NBI denying the allegations. The NBI said the materials would have to be checked and authenticated.

On October 12, the bureau reported that it was tracing alleged money flows and looking into properties potentially connected to the accusations.

The following day, the NBI referred a separate fact-finding report concerning Sara Duterte’s statements of assets, liabilities, and net worth to the Ombudsman.

That SALN referral wasn’t a finding that Gracioso’s alleged cash deliveries had happened. The investigation was still dealing with claims that needed evidence.

Those developments are worth knowing if you’re going to criticize GMA for reporting the original allegations.

But how many people who shared Locsin’s attack followed the case afterward?

How many of the pages repeated the updates, including Sara’s denial and the NBI’s continuing investigation?

Those are things I would like to check.

I haven’t established that the pages circulating the GMA criticism were part of the same operation as those mocking Remulla.

What I have are examples of political statements moving between pages, including instances where additional wording or completed graphics were reused.

And these aren’t all tiny accounts nobody reads.

Trending News Online displayed roughly 329,000 followers when checked. Presidenting Davaweñio had around 23,000, and DuterteSara Supporters around 19,000.

That’s already a considerable audience for the next controversial post.

But the follower numbers don’t tell us how many people actually saw each post. Nor do they tell us who manages the pages.

A familiar logo and thousands of followers are no substitute for knowing who’s responsible for the information being published.

Then there’s something else I’ve been thinking about.

Money.

Under its post criticizing GMA, DuterteSara Supporters pinned an invitation for readers to subscribe for political updates, particularly about the vice president. Its profile also invited inquiries about promotions.

Presidenting Davaweñio displayed subscription offers as well.

So these pages aren’t necessarily posting political content just to express an opinion. Some are also trying to turn their audiences into paying subscribers or customers.

And Facebook has its own monetization program.

According to Meta, eligible creators can earn from videos, photos, and text posts based on qualified views and content performance.

I don’t know whether these particular pages are enrolled in that program, and I don’t have access to their earnings. I’m not claiming Meta paid them for the posts I’ve been following.

But the financial incentive is obvious enough to question.

If controversial political content attracts attention, and attention can help build a paying audience, what prevents page operators from repeatedly publishing the most provocative material they can find?

Especially when checking the information takes considerably more work than copying a quote and putting it on a graphic?

And what happens when the posts are misleading?

That’s a question for Meta.

You’ve created a system where eligible pages can earn money from content performance. You also have rules against spam, deceptive behavior, and certain kinds of reused content.

How well are those rules being enforced in the Philippines?

When a page repeatedly circulates misleading political content, does it lose monetization privileges? How would the public know? What happens after somebody reports a post?

And are you checking networks of pages that repeatedly circulate the same political material?

I would like answers backed by actual enforcement figures.

The Presidential Communications Office should also be paying attention.

The government already raised concerns with Meta about misinformation and coordinated online activity earlier this year. The PCO, DICT, and DOJ also announced plans to work together against false information and AI-generated deception.

So what has happened since?

I would like the PCO to tell us what those efforts have produced. How many cases have been investigated? What evidence of coordinated activity has been found? What action has Meta taken in response?

And please, don’t make this another exercise in identifying whoever happens to be criticizing the administration.

The same standards should apply to pages attacking the government, defending it, or promoting any political camp.

If an official says something inaccurate, correct it and release the supporting information. If a survey is cited, make the figures and earlier comparisons available. Give people something they can check themselves.

In Remulla’s case, that means acknowledging the 65 percent trust rating while also answering questions about Metro Manila and the decline in feelings of safety.

And if the government believes certain pages are operating together to mislead people, show the evidence. Let people distinguish legitimate criticism from an organized attempt to deceive.

I keep returning to those 154,000 laughing reactions.

Not because I think Jonvic deserves sympathy. I’ve criticized him before, and I’ll criticize him again when I have reason to.

But look at how much attention one graphic attracted.

Then compare that with the amount of information the graphic gave readers.

That’s what interested me from the beginning.

These pages already have audiences. They don’t need to create a new account every time they want to attack somebody. They can take a statement from a television interview, put it in front of thousands of followers, and collect reactions before most people have even looked for the original source.

Sometimes the criticism may be justified. Sometimes the politician may have exaggerated. Sometimes the pages may be leaving out information that changes how the statement should be understood.

And sometimes, as with the posts I’ve been tracing, there are questions about how the same material keeps moving between accounts.

I want to know who’s running these pages, how they’re connected, and whether they’re making money from political content that gives readers only part of the information.

I don’t have all those answers yet.

But I have enough questions to keep watching.

Cover photo credit: Office of the Chief PNP, via Manila Standard, April 7, 2026.