The lazy politics of labeling: Cheap trick that dismisses criticism
A bird doesn’t even have to sing loudly anymore. It just has to perch in the wrong place, tilt its head a certain way, or make the faintest chirp—and suddenly it’s marked. Not for what it actually did, but for what others decide it might mean. In this environment, observation becomes suspicion, and suspicion quickly hardens into accusation.
Some people no longer argue—they accuse.
That’s the real problem.
You raise a legitimate question about public spending, governance, or abuse of authority, and instead of getting an answer, you get a label. Not evidence, not explanation—just suspicion, casually thrown as if it’s enough to end the conversation. It’s a cheap trick, but it works often enough to keep being used.
Sometimes the labels come dressed as jokes or slang—phrases like “corned beef” or “taong-bundok” tossed into the conversation with a smirk, as if that makes them harmless. But everyone understands what’s being implied. They’re not meant to clarify anything; they’re meant to plant doubt, to reduce a person’s argument to a caricature that’s easier to dismiss than confront.
This isn’t about national security. It’s not even about ideology. It’s about convenience.
Because answering hard questions takes effort. It requires transparency, accountability, and sometimes admitting fault. But discrediting someone? That’s easy. All it takes is a hint, a suggestion, a familiar coded phrase—and suddenly the spotlight shifts. The issue disappears. The person becomes the issue.
And the more this happens, the more normalized it becomes. What should be an outrageous accusation turns into background noise. People hear it, shrug, and move on. Another critic dismissed. Another conversation derailed.
There’s a certain arrogance behind it, too—the assumption that power doesn’t need to explain itself, only to protect itself. That scrutiny is an attack, not a responsibility of citizenship. That anyone who dares to question must have a hidden agenda.
It would be almost laughable if it weren’t so effective. Because this tactic doesn’t just silence one person—it sends a message to everyone else watching. Speak up, and you’ll be next. Ask too many questions, and your name won’t be attached to your argument anymore, but to whatever label is most convenient at the time.
So people hesitate. They soften their words. Or worse, they stay silent.
And that silence is exactly the point.
A government—or any institution—that cannot tolerate scrutiny doesn’t become stronger by shutting people down. It becomes more fragile, more defensive, more detached from the very public it claims to serve.
If questioning authority is enough to make you suspicious, then the standard isn’t loyalty—it’s obedience.
And there’s a difference.
One builds a functioning society. The other just keeps those in power comfortable.So the next time someone skips the argument and jumps straight to the label, it’s worth asking why. Not about the person being accused—but about the person doing the accusing.
Because in the end, the refusal to answer a question says far more than the question itself ever could.
JOHN BENEDICT BANDAY,
benedictbanday0@gmail.com
