Imagine filing your income tax return annually or taking a peek at your grocery list after an exhausting trip in-between aisles—the amount of tax glaring like a dagger. You shrug it off thinking it would actually fund meaningful projects in the country—road expansions, additional classrooms, or public health facilities. This expectation is immediately shattered as you look around.
What happens when a portion of the Filipino people’s taxes are poured into producing self-serving portraits of government officials instead of it being allocated to government projects?
Department of Tourism (DOT) Secretary Christina Frasco has been the subject of public scrutiny for having her photos prominently featured in campaigns promoting the Philippines as a tourist destination. From tarpaulins where she occupies nearly half the space to self-insertion in magazines supposedly promoting the country’s tourist spots, her photos seem to know no bounds. While Sec. Frasco argued during the Senate Committee on Tourism hearing on February 4 that she did not intend to engage in self-promotion, this issue is not merely a matter of intent. Rather, it reflects the deeply rooted culture of political self-branding that continues to blur the line between public service and personal publicity.
At its core, tourism promotion is meant to spotlight destinations, cultures, and experiences—not the officials tasked to market them. Foreigners and even local residents should be seeing more natural resources in advertisements—Philippine beaches, mountains, and diverse ecosystems highlighting species native to the Philippines—and less of Sec. Frasco’s face. Not only does this appear obnoxious, it is also highly ineffective. Plastering photos of officials in tourism campaign materials does not add appeal; if anything, it weakens national image and diverts public attention from what is actually being promoted.
Campaign space is limited, and every inch used for a public figure like Sec. Frasco is a space lost for destinations or cultural and heritage storytelling. Instead of investing in ink to print gigantic portraits in a huge portion of these materials, why not spend it on images of turquoise waters, century-old churches, and protected indigenous practices? More importantly, it is possible that foreign tourists do not even recognize these personalities in the first place, making such portrayals not only pointless but also wasteful. After all, her photos are not the view that foreigners should be looking for—the beauty of the Philippines is.
Beyond questionable marketing strategy, personality-driven tourism campaigns raise a deeper issue: how public office is increasingly treated as a platform for personal promotion rather than national representation.
This concern has been endemic in the country, assuming many forms. One of its most common variations is politicians’ photos on congratulatory tarpaulins of board passers and other achievements of their constituents. Some may also put their names in government-funded projects—such as gymnasiums, schools, and other infrastructure—strategically linking these initiatives to their names. As a result, local residents feel indebted towards these politicians, when in fact these infrastructure and other materials are funded by the taxpayers themselves.
Seen through this lens, Sec. Frasco’s tourism campaign materials reflect this broader pattern in which political visibility overshadows institutional representation. When promotional platforms funded by public resources highlight public servants, they risk reinforcing the belief that government initiatives are personal endeavors rather than collective national efforts.
Addressing this issue requires concrete reforms that limit political self-branding in publicly funded projects. One such reform is the large-scale and nationwide implementation of the Anti-Epal Law which directs offices to immediately remove the names, images, and likenesses of public officials from all government-funded projects, programs, activities, and properties. This shouldn’t be only mandated for Local Government Units (LGUs), but also in department offices such as the Department of Tourism.
Moreover, if it is indeed the case that Frasco did not give consent for the use of her image in the tourism magazines and other campaign materials, and if no government funds were used for their publication, then she must make it a point to immediately call for the removal of her images from these campaign materials. Ultimately, action must come not only from the officials but from the citizens themselves.
Just as one might glance at a grocery bill and question the charges, citizens should be able to question how their taxes are spent—and expect that these funds support meaningful projects, not self promotion. If we want tourism campaigns to truly showcase the country’s beauty and cultural richness, we must first ensure that public service remains just that—service to the nation, not promotion of self.
Written by Gweneth Pablo (Odile) Insight PH
Gweneth Pablo (Odile) Insight PH is a dedicated campus journalist and contributor. Their insightful writing sparks meaningful conversations and keeps the community informed.
