By now, you might have heard of the story of Christopher Lao, a UP Law student who attained infamy after a news video featuring his flooded car was widely shared online.
Lao was filmed by a local new station attempting to cross a flooded portion of Mother Ignacia street in Quezon City. As his car stalled and was pushed to safer ground by bystanders, it was clear that the water was at least knee-deep.
What gained Lao notoriety was his rant blaming “traffic enforcers,” the MMDA, and even people hanging out near the flood for his predicament.
“They should have already blocked the road,” Lao said as he was interviewed by a reporter. “I should have been informed. Nobody even stopped [me]!”
As the video was passed around through Filipinos’ Facebook, Twitter and Google Plus accounts, viewers mocked Lao’s attempt to navigate deep waters with a family sedan. Yet the BA Philosophy graduate (also from UP) stood out mostly for his apparent willingness to blame everyone else — except for himself — for what happened.
But does the informal interview capture the entire picture? As edited by the news organization that first aired it, the video starts in media res, right as Lao starts reacting defensively to the reporter’s questions. Maybe the interview started out reasonably, and perhaps the reporter pushed Lao into a corner he felt that he had to escape from rhetorically?
Yes, Lao exercised poor judgment when he tried to run his car through such deep floods. And maybe he could have handled the reporter better. But even the most intelligent people (Lao earned Summa Cum Laude honors for his pre-law course, with an average of 1.169) make mistakes. Some three years ago, I myself actually stalled my car in deep water, and I also found myself being pushed to safety by helpful bystanders.
In any case, it’s clear that Lao’s newfound “celebrity” was possible only because his behavior was recorded. And he also made the mistake of sharing his real name with the reporter, making himself identifiable to armchair critics. With the news organization in full control of how it presented the video, Lao was at their mercy.
After I wrote about the incident on my website Technograph, one of my readers said “I don’t think we have to ridicule [Lao]. Instead, we just have to learn from the scenario.” Here are two lessons I may apply, if I ever find myself in a similar situation:
Use a fake name. What if Lao said his name was “Mr. Mojo Risin’”? Even if he still blamed others for not warning him about the flood, practically no one — except for friends and acquaintances — would figure out who he was. Then maybe his educational record wouldn’t become part of the “discussion.” Unless we’re dealing with the police, we have no obligation to reveal our real names, right?
Keep your cards close. Christopher’s eagerness to blame others was another reason why he’s known as “ang bobong sinugod ang kotse sa baha” [the idiot who charged his car through a flood] online. It’s clear that Lao was frustrated — fixing a car with a flooded engine can be quite expensive. And in other countries, authorities do close down roads made dangerous by weather. But that’s no reason to rant to complete strangers, especially to employees of a news organization that can cherry-pick interviews for entertainment purposes.
What can we learn from the story of Christopher Lao? A simple modification of what I’ve written before: In a time where unflattering portrayals of you can easily spread (thanks to the Internet), whatever you record, or are recorded doing, may be used against you.