The Emman Atienza Bill Has Its Heart in The Right Place, But...

(SPOT.ph) In the weeks since her death, content creator Emman Atienza has become a symbol of how cruel the internet can be—and how quick people are to demand kindness only after it’s too late. It was just a matter of time before this public grief was processed into a piece of legislation, but the bill that now bears Emman's name is being accused of being more performative than protective.

We're referring to the Anti-Online Hate and Harassment Bill, or the Emman Atienza Bill filed by Senator JV Ejercito. On paper, the measure promises to crack down on cyberbullying, doxxing, and hate speech, using Atienza’s experience as an example of how social media abuse may inflict real harm.

“We hope Emman’s passing will not be in vain as we push for the immediate passage of this measure. We need to bring back kindness online, where people pause and think before they post. We must prevent another tragedy where our fellowmen, especially the youth, are pushed to the breaking point by the vitriol of online hate,” Ejercito said in a statement.

The proposal would require internet platforms to remove harmful content within 24 hours of a verified complaint or court order, preserve data for investigation, and suspend offending users. Victims would be entitled to psychosocial and legal support through the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD), Department of Health (DOH), and Department of Justice (DOJ) with costs shouldered by the perpetrators. Penalties range from fines of P50,000 to P200,000 for repeat offenders, while the House version proposes higher penalties of up to P1 million when harassment involves public officials or organized online attacks.

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But the Philippines isn’t short on digital protection. The Cybercrime Prevention Act of 2012 already penalizes cyberlibel, identity theft, and online threats. The Safe Spaces Act of 2019 expands harassment laws to cover behavior that happens on the internet—sending lewd messages, stalking through social media, or making misogynistic remarks on digital platforms. The Anti-Bullying Act of 2013 requires schools to punish cyberbullying.

A separate Anti-Doxxing Bill is also currently pending in Congress, targeting the malicious sharing of someone’s personal information—like home addresses, phone numbers, or private photos—without consent and with intent to harm.

Put together, these laws already cast a wide net over most kinds of online bullying. What’s missing isn’t protection but enforcement. Cases still move slowly, victims struggle to navigate where to file complaints, and tech platforms don't usually cooperate unless the story goes viral.

According to Ejercito, the measure expands the scope of the Cybercrime Prevention Act and the Anti-Bullying Act by providing a clearer definition of online hate and harassment. But even if this bill expands these, the bigger concern is still the enforcement.

Expecting every platform to act within 24 hours sounds great until you realize how hard it is to track down online offenders. All major social media platforms are based abroad, which means Philippine authorities have little power to compel them to remove content or hand over user data. Both the Senate and the House of Representatives have acknowledged this gap: in 2022, a Senate report recommended holding platforms accountable for harmful content, while a 2025 House committee proposed requiring companies like Facebook and TikTok to establish local offices to improve compliance. In short, the bill seems to demand what the systems have made wildly difficult to enforce.

Maybe we need more than a new law against online bullying to address what happened to Emman. Mental health played a huge role in her life, too, something she was never shy about sharing. Long before her passing, she spoke candidly about her struggles with bipolar disorder and ADHD. While she was open about seeking help, most don’t even have that option. The Philippines has a severe shortage of mental health professionals—we only have three for every 100,000 Filipinos, according to the Department of Health. In some regions, that number drops to fewer than one. Say you have access—therapy still costs at least P2,000 per session—which is well beyond what ordinary Filipinos can afford. For every viral call to “be kind,” there are thousands quietly struggling without support. Kindness, at the end of the day, can only do so much.

There's no denying tragedies are what often drive momentum in lawmaking. Each time a story grips the public—whether it’s a hazing death, a viral harassment case, or a high-profile crime—there's a rush to respond with a new proposal. Attaching a person’s name to a bill can lend weight and visibility to the issue at hand, but what comes after?

In the Senator's defense, this bill comes from the most heartfelt intentions to be sure—he is, after all, a close friend of Emman’s father, Kim Atienza. As such, he is responding not as a politician chasing headlines but as a friend who shares in the family’s grief. But if its preventing another Emman Atienza tragedy from happening that we seek, maybe we just need to recall that Emman herself had, for a while, been speaking about the lack of mental health support in the country. Maybe we don’t need another law to remind people to be kind; we need a system that actually works—one that’s enforceable, dependable, and strong enough to protect the vulnerable when kindness out there is in short supply.

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