Balancing Act

By Sonia P. Soto

A quiet transformation is unfolding in how local governance and public communication intersect—not only here, but in many corners of the world. It’s no longer just about policies or performance. Increasingly, it’s about narratives: who tells them, who listens, and who gets left out of the conversation.

Across cities and municipalities, a growing number of public officials are turning away from traditional media and embracing the immediacy and control offered by social media. The motivations are understandable. Social media is inexpensive, direct, and unfiltered by editorial constraints. It allows leaders to speak in their own voice, on their own terms. In a time when traditional media requires significant financial outlays—whether for blocktime programs, paid infomercials, or ad placements—social media seems like a more efficient, even democratic, alternative.

But there is a trade-off. And it is not small.

This shift invites us to examine what I call curated transparency. It is the appearance of openness, carefully managed. It is communication as performance—visually rich, emotionally charged, and algorithmically amplified—but strategically selective in what it reveals. It builds intimacy and visibility, but often leaves little room for contradiction, investigation, or independent framing.

The danger is not in the use of these platforms per se—indeed, they are powerful tools for engagement—but in the displacement of journalistic mediation, of public questioning, of the checks that keep governance honest.

Let us also acknowledge the realities faced by the media. In many communities, journalism is under pressure. Newsrooms are shrinking. Reporters juggle multiple roles, sometimes straying into public relations work to make ends meet. These conditions affect credibility and weaken public trust. But this weakness, real as it is, must not become an excuse to delegitimize the entire role of the press.

In a democratic society, the media serves a function no social media page can fully replace: it asks the questions others will not, pursues stories not designed for applause, and places public actions in broader context. It is meant to verify, not amplify. To question, not merely echo.

That public officials now rely on social media is not inherently wrong. What matters is whether this digital engagement complements—or replaces—accountability. When the story is told only by those in power, without critique, scrutiny, or competing perspectives, governance becomes a closed loop. We mistake reach for impact, likes for legitimacy, and virality for truth.

Public funds allocated for information dissemination exist not to promote personalities, but to empower citizens through accessible and balanced information. These budgets are not campaign tools; they are instruments of public transparency. Their misuse—whether through neglect or repurposing—erodes the spirit of participatory governance.

There are no villains in this narrative—only urgent questions. How do we restore trust in media? How do we ensure that engagement does not eclipse accountability? And how do we rebuild a culture of discourse where being asked hard questions is not seen as hostility, but as part of public service?

The answer does not lie in choosing between traditional and digital platforms, but in safeguarding the values that underpin both: truth, independence, and public interest.

Because in the end, when stories are curated too tightly, and critical voices pushed too far to the margins, what we lose is not just perspective—it is the citizen’s rightful place in the democratic conversation. #