The Frasco Fiasco

When the Tourism Secretary Becomes the Destination

By Louis “Barok” C. Biraogo — February 5, 2026

SCENE: Late evening in a bustling Tokyo 7-Eleven. A foreign visitor, guidebook in hand, picks up a complimentary English-Japanese travel mag from the rack. The cover star? Not Boracay’s waves or Cebu’s cliffs — but Secretary Christina Frasco, perfectly framed against paradise, smiling directly at him.

He flips through, expecting Boracay’s sands or Palawan’s lagoons. Instead, he finds more Frasco.

Now shift to the real Philippines. A habal-habal driver in Panglao, Bohol, waits under the scorching sun. His motorcycle idles, his earnings shrink, and the promised tourist boom never arrives.

In Boracay, a Manila family checks into an overpriced resort. They grimace at the cost and wonder why the experience falls short of cheaper, seamless Thailand.

These are not exceptions. They are the two Philippines: one polished and personality-driven for foreign eyes, the other raw, overlooked, and increasingly resentful.

Welcome to the Frasco Fiasco—a scandal that started with a magazine cover but exposes a deeper malaise in Philippine governance.

**“Your vacation photos must include the Secretary or they’re classified as fake news.”**

The Anatomy of an Epal Campaign

Secretary Frasco’s defense at the Senate Committee on Tourism hearing deserves close scrutiny. What she presented was less persuasion than creative evasion.

On the Japanese magazine: “I did not pay for it, no government funds were used, and my consent was never obtained.” How convenient. Independent publishers abroad apparently adore her photogenic qualities, selecting her over the Chocolate Hills or Tubbataha Reef.

Next, the split between “work documentation” and marketing. Official photos, she claims, merely record duties. Yet these same images appear on airport tarpaulins, website galleries, and foreign publications.

If it looks like epal—the Filipino term for credit-grabbing self-aggrandizement—and quacks like epal, plastering itself across Caticlan airport, then it is epal.

The pattern is clear: the Tokyo magazine, the Boracay banners for a public-private partnership (PPP) launch, the Department of Tourism (DOT) website’s extensive Frasco gallery disguised as reports. This is not mere visibility. It is a full-scale epal campaign, where agency logos take a backseat to the official’s portrait—a chronic affliction in Philippine bureaucracy.

A Tourism Strategy in Crisis

Look past the face on the banner. The real problem is the hollow strategy it masks.

While Secretary Frasco visits 56 of 82 provinces—admirable effort—international arrivals in 2025 reached only 6.48 million, far below pre-pandemic peaks and regional rivals. Domestic travel remains costly. The e-visa system for Chinese tourists has faltered.

Infrastructure lags. Workforce training initiatives lack measurable impact.

What is the coherent plan to reverse this? Not more photo opportunities. Not another ceremonial event with the secretary front and center.

The Frasco Fiasco symptomizes a government fixated on appearances over results, personal branding over practical solutions. When drivers and resort workers see livelihoods stagnate, they need packed flights and occupied rooms—not another polished smile against a sunset that belongs to everyone.

Motives & Malice: A Political Soap Opera

Let us identify the actors and their incentives with unflinching candor.

Secretary Frasco: Naive self-promotion from a political heir used to spotlight? A strategic investment in future Cebu ambitions tied to the Garcia dynasty? Or the unexamined entitlement of a class that views public office as personal platform? Her emphatic “no national ambition” sounds rehearsed, almost prophetic.

Senator Raffy Tulfo: Authentic guardian of accountability, or populist performer staging Senate drama for ratings? His outrage resonates with public sentiment but reduces systemic failure to one individual’s vanity.

The public and media: The anger transcends alleged waste. It is profound resentment toward leaders who appear more devoted to their own image—photographic and political—than to public duty. When tourism struggles and families feel the pinch, a secretary’s perfect backdrop feels like insult added to injury.

The Way Forward: Radical Realism

Critique without solutions is empty rhetoric. Here are concrete prescriptions.

Adopt a Destination-First Doctrine. Legally separate official documentation from marketing. Prohibit officials’ faces on covers, billboards, or airport banners unless essential (and then limited to 10% of space). Create an independent Tourism Communications Review Board for campaign pre-approval and annual compliance reports.

Force Senate evolution. Redirect inquiries from personal images to substantive plans. Require the DOT to report specific visitor targets, infrastructure deadlines, cost-reduction strategies, and robust partnerships.

A final, unyielding appeal to every public official: Embrace humility and tangible outcomes. Authentic tourism leadership elevates the nation, not the secretary. Success means packed hotels, prosperous guides, and drivers who can afford better futures—not another magazine spread of an official against a communal sunset.

The Philippines deserves a tourism narrative centered on its 7,641 islands and 110 million aspirations—not one woman’s face.

Make the country the star. Keep the secretary behind the lens, doing the actual work.

This is Barok signing off. While some people chase likes, I chase the truth. Both are apparently endangered species in Malacañang.